Miserere
by halbarath
Summary: What if the war had turned in favor of Voldemort? With the deaths of Harry and Ron at the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione flees. But hiding is not the answer. She would never settle for less than the assured survival of her friends. There is no other way. She would have to change History.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer : I own nothing. I make no money out of it. Everything belongs to JKR.

A/N : Many thanks to Dlbn, my fellow Loveless fanfictioner, who agreed to beta read my work even when she is not herself into HP. Blow kisses your way my dear!

A/N : Actually, this is the very first story I ever wrote. I began fanfiction with this plot bunny, wrote it all, got about 80 pages on my computer and never published. I found it again 10 years later and thought I would freshen it a bit as I wasn't totally happy with it. I ended up re-writing the whole thing. Mind you, I like this version far better than the first!

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 **Chapter 1**

War is ugly. How desperately I would like to retain the happiness, the easy smiles, the gentle touches of those I love that I saw during the wedding of Bill and Fleur! But life is not such a walk in the park. They had to barge in and ruin it all. There is no happiness as long as there are Death-Eaters. Nor is there any joy or peacefulness. Only war and fear and hunger and cold.

So there we were, three teenagers running for their lives, hiding and hiking in the wilderness, going head first into a wild goose chase started by a dead man with dreams of omniscience.

Oh, we had our victories. We did manage to escape almost unscathed after many skirmishes, we did find and destroy several Horcruxes. The diary, of course, was destroyed in our second year. Dumbledore took care of the ring. We found the real locket at Grimmauld Place and Hufflepuff cup in Gringotts. I admit flying out on a dragon was rather dramatic. I won't forget either we were given the Sword of Gryffindor by an unseen ally.

But mostly, we were alone, terrified and outnumbered. Ron was splinched. Our trio shattered. We lost Dobby. Our friends were tortured at school. We were hungry, tired, cold and for a long time, had to burden our souls while bearing a Horcrux. We still had to find three Horcruxes with no lead at all and no guidance. No ally or family to support us. And a task so grim and colossal it sent us reeling and shrinking away in fear.

And the war intensified. It was raw and gripping. Despite all our precautions, we were caught off guard. When we managed to get a lead on Ravenclaw diadem, we had no choice but to throw ourselves into the thick of it. So we marched on, loyal little toy soldiers straight to our deaths. To Hogwarts, to the place we had once called ours; where we had once felt safe and protected. Up we went to Diagon Alley and on again, to Hogwarts. Sure enough, we had found the diadem, but at what price? Ron's death? Draco and his cronies' deaths? Professor Snape's sacrifice? Our mighty school on its knees, Voldemort at its doors? And then, the revelation. It was Harry's turn now, to sacrifice himself. But too late, too late we were, Ron and I. And we cried together and went into battle, with rage in our hearts for our best friend had just been raised to be slaughtered. And Harry being himself, he went out there, facing Him alone. And then he was dead. For real. There was no getting up. No, big play. Dead because Dumbledore's wish was just that. A wish. True enough, the Horcrux was gone. But my friend was gone too. We had two Horcruxes destroyed that day. In exchange, I had lost everything. My parents, sent in hiding, oblivious of my mere existence. Harry. Then Ron. The Weasleys; my wizard family. The school. Everything. What did I have left? Voldemort had won. I didn't have a place in this world anymore. I had nothing.

I fled. I left it all. I went to Muggle society. I tried to tend to my wounds, to seam my torn life and heart back. But how can you mend what is beyond repair? How can you go on, with no hope and no support? Those questions were soon pointless as the war reached the Muggle world. Attacks and sudden deaths were all over the papers. From all the paths opened to me, I chose the least likely and certainly the most illegal. Honestly, I had very low expectations of any future and I had no wish to begin anew in another country. I had no wish to live abroad and leave everything behind. My baggage was, in any way or form, much too heavy.

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 _Review pretty please ?_


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: As always, not mine. It's all JKR's work and property.

A/N: Thanks to my beta, Dlbn. Of course, I'll name you! To you readers, I hope you'll like it and consider reviewing.

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Chapter 2

Getting back into the Wizarding world was relatively easy. Staying inconspicuous was not. Death-Eaters and Snatchers were everywhere. Every corner was watched and there was a curfew. People were subdued and went their business. The shops closed early because no-one was wandering the street. Window-shopping was truly dead. It was disheartening.

There was no way I was going to live in this world. Better be dead and join my friends in the afterlife. But I could not bring myself to suicide. That was never really a possibility. I would fight until I couldn't anymore. Or I would die trying.

First, I had to brew. I had several potions to make. Most of them were simple potions that would require a trip to an Apothecary, but I was confident my purchase wouldn't point me out. Concerning the trickiest one, the ingredients weren't rare or expensive. I could pick up most of them during a simple stroll and I could buy the others in any Muggle drug store. But I would need a mortar, a very good cauldron and a safe place where magic was not monitored. I had few options so I settled on Grimmauld Place, despite all the risks. I was not inclined to stay there for a prolonged period of time both for personal and safety reasons.

Then, I had to get a hold of some of the shabbiest members of the deceased Order of the Phoenix. I managed to obtain Kreacher's help who in turn could ask other elves about one thing or another without arousing suspicion or getting rebuffed. I cried when he told me professor McGonagall was still alive. Hiding, but very much alive. Through those underground characters, I also learned the ministry still kept the only remaining Time-Turner inside its building. For once, luck was on my side; a Time-Turner had been lent when we smashed the whole bunch in a time-loop.

The daunting part was still ahead of me. I had to get my hand on this item. I knew it was most probably held in the Department of Mysteries and since I've been there when I was younger, I was positive I could work my way there. But I also knew there was no way I could do it explicitly. So I disillusioned myself, took Harry's cloak and hoped for the best. It wasn't difficult to enter the Ministry. Voldemort's partisans were sloppy at best. Since they met absolutely no resistance, they did but a poor job of monitoring the visitors. Entering the building was easier than the last time I was there with Harry and Ron. I took advantage of those waiting for their wand to be checked. At the exact moment where a man approached, I casted a silent Ascendio and thus propelled myself above the golden gates. I regret the problems it caused the unsuspecting man who had to go through all the troubles of proving his wand and motives were entirely pure but I had to go through. Then I found myself a very dark, quiet and unused corner and waited for the stream of people to thin. I had to swallow the lump in my throat as memories assaulted me. I had no idea then if I would ever see them again, alive and unburdened. If the mission I had tasked myself wouldn't be pointless. And the hazards. Oh, the hazards. It would be a miracle if I didn't die in the process. Worse, I could cause a dramatic ripple that would erase my friends forever. I did my homework. I knew about Eloise Mintumble and I really did not wish for a replay. But I also had to take the chance. Not that I had many alternatives either.

When I managed to get into a lift without fearing bumping into anyone, it was already late in the mid-afternoon. I dared not wait until everyone left, in case the lift set an alarm. I did however, wait until the Ministry closed to try and locate the Time-Room. I had brought paint and sticker labels to mark the doors so I would not be disoriented when the room rotated. It was as illuminated and peaceful as I remembered it. I took a moment to watch the Time-Turners in their loop. There was something eerily mesmerizing in their constant movement. I drew off a few drops from the Bell Jar so that I could add some to my potion, should the first batch be ineffective. I located quickly the only Time-Turner available and snatched it almost too easily. Either they were careless, or they thought the measures taken were sufficient. Since both possibilities were to my advantage, I was not going to complain. I was faced however with the difficulty of getting out of the Ministry. Either I took the lifts and hoped it wouldn't set an alarm or I waited a whole night and had again to get out without being seen. I chose to wait and used the Floo as the early workers trickled in. That had been a very long but also an extremely rewarding night.

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A/N: Review, pretty please?


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer** : as always, it belongs to **JKR**.

A/N: Thank you to my beta, Dlbn, for her work and time when I know it's tough for her. Many hugs to you, honey!

A/N : Thank you to all those who read, followed my story or "favourited" it. It means more than I can say here.

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 **Chapter 3**

I went to my former Professor. Meeting my former Head of House after all that had happened was almost too much. I cried; big, silent tears rolling down my cheeks. I think she cried too. She always had a soft spot for me despite her gruffly attitude. Our losses were too many to bear, our burdens too heavy, our duties too overwhelming while our means were meagre at best, and our allies were all either dead, imprisoned or abroad. Desperate times. Desperate measures. She approved of my plan, which was a sketch at best and definitely dangerous for everyone. And yet, I had her blessing and her help. I don't know what happened to her after I left. I will never know. I'm uncertain whether I should rejoice over this issue.

We spent hours going through the whys and how's. She checked my potions. Once, twice, thrice. She offered me inside information on Hogwarts since, as a Headmistress, she had been granted knowledge of secret passageways and hiding points or secluded positions that even the Marauders and the twins hadn't been able to discover. She told me which portraits to go to for help; their location and their allegiances. She explained the previous Headmasters' traits and quirks as well as how to manipulate their portraits. Together, we pieced together a way to charm the Time-Turner to suit my purpose. We went over the details of my plan: where to land, how to explain myself, who should I go to first, how should I time my presence? How could I stay on the school grounds while still concealing my presence from the Headmaster? How and when should I make it known?

Last but not least, she offered me her memories of the Marauders, Lily Evans, Severus Snape, and Headmaster Dumbledore. She tried to explain what she had seen, heard and experienced then. Many were vague, only snippets. A feeling here, a smell there. Blurry pictures of eyes darkened by hurt, fear or shame. Brazen grins, easy smiles and laughter. No sense of doom, only some undefined uneasiness and a slight tinge of failure. Because the teachers had failed in preventing so many Slytherins from turning to Dark Magic. They had failed in protecting and helping Severus Snape thus allowing him to be so consumed by resentment and hate that he would fall prey to the privileged traditional old Pureblood leaders of his days. And what a nest of vipers they were! Ensnaring him with empty promises, a false sense of control and counterfeit friendships. How could he ever resist? Not with his history. My resolve hardened. There was no other choice. I had to do it, even if I was alone and scared. This was an endeavour I had to undertake without the two anchors of my life because fate had decided otherwise. An adventure we would never share. It saddened me to knowingly forfeit my childhood and lifelong friendships with Harry and Ron. They wouldn't have approved of my actions. They would have ranted and raved, thrown a fit. Ron would have shouted at me, red-faced, his voice full of anger. Harry would have looked at me with those sad eyes of his, his concern only too bright in his words and soft voice. Harry had never raised his voice at me like Ron used to but he would be as worried. I miss them both so very much. If only...

At last, all details had been discussed at length and there was no more that we could arrange beforehand. I had to throw myself in the mist of it all and gamble my life. My life, my mind, my body and soul. I would devote my entire being into preventing the death of my best friends and Voldemort's rise into full power. I will dedicate my whole self in the pursuit of this goal. I will not give up. I will forever conjure my love for them all to fight the darkness invading our world. I will forever picture my friends' dead eyes whenever I will feel desperate and discouraged. I will forever imprint their laugh and smiles and warmth to ward off the fear and sadness. I will prevail. Or I will die trying. One way or another, we will be reunited again.

The separation from Professor McGonagall had been teary. The uncertainty of what awaited me ate my confidence away. Doubts crept in and took full advantage as I drank my potions. A Polyjuice and memories of an abandoned bathroom sprang to mind. Distasteful as ever. We had an hour to get ready. There was no way I'd try to travel under Polyjuice but there were preparations to be made and we were both on the run. With Snatchers everywhere, it wasn't safe. A fortifying potion that brought up memories of Potions class with my best friends. A de-ageing potion that caused me many white hairs. Professor Snape would have been proud. I don't think I will ever be able to brew it again. Oh, the countless days I've spent on it. Even Professor McGonagall had felt like throwing in the towel. But judging by the face I saw reflected in my hand made mirror, I'd say we've finally managed to brew it properly.

My bottomless bag strapped securely at my side, filled to the brim with all the tokens of my life, all my treasures— pictures for the most part. Books, as well as letters and gifts from Harry or Ron, sweaters from Mrs Weasley, a few pieces of jewellery from my parents, my mobile phone, some cds, my money, the hard-won drops from the Time-Turners carefully hidden in an unbreakable vial; all my life packed in such a small bag. Can it really be reduced to this small bundle, even if it was magically expanded? I looked one last time around me at the deserted and lifeless place I so loved once. Prowled by Death-Eaters, grim and forbidding. It retained nothing of its former glory and happiness. No, nothing held me there anymore. I stared at my former Professor and saw the same longing and fear in her eyes. How will things evolve for me? One last potion and there would be no turning back. Never. Not once would I be able to regain my place. If all went according to plan, this world will never come to pass. Harry and Ron will never die. And I will never share their life either once I reach my nineteenth birthday. But what else was there to try? I closed my eyes and drew strength from their love and loyalty for me. I will not fail them.

I took my last potion. Surprisingly, it tasted good. If I died, at least I would die with a nice taste in my mouth. Professor McGonagall began chanting the spell, softly so that we wouldn't draw attention. Even sheltered by the last trees of the forest, the area wasn't safe; nowhere was safe. But we had to get me the nearest possible to Hogwarts. It was impossible to get into the school. The idea had been dismissed almost as soon as it reached our lips. The Forbidden forest was too dangerous with Voldemort in power. Hogsmead was the nearest and least hazardous, if one is very optimistic. The words coiled around my tongue, swirling in my mouth, leaving the bitter taste of resentment and anger behind it. I would fulfil my part and duty, as a witch, as a Muggle-born, as Harry Potter's best friend. All at the cost of my personal happiness. I knew it and accepted it. It never meant I had to be thrilled about it.

I landed suddenly. It was a foggy evening, sweet-smelling with nightingales chirping in the forest. At least I wasn't dead. Seemed like it was approximately the same season. I stood there, taking in the familiar surroundings and not recognizing them. It could have been any time when we first were allowed to go there on weekends. If I strained my ears, I could almost hear Harry and Ron's voices and laughter. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. A few steadying breaths later, I was ready to go on. Hitching my bag up, I began the trek down the hill towards the Hog's head.

A few galleons shorter, I had a warm meal in front of me, a copy of the Prophet in my hand and a bed waiting for me upstairs. I had done it. I don't know how, but I managed to reach both my destination and the right timeframe with my body intact and the world apparently still rotating on its orbit. Miracles happen apparently. If only another one could be bestowed at my request.

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A/N: I thank you readers for your time and I dearly wish for you to review... It would most certainly make my day.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

A/N : As always, thanks to my beta and to you readers. I hope you will like it.

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 **Chapter 4: Sixth year, October**

Waking up lazily was not something I was used to anymore. As sunlight filtered through the curtains, I had to force myself into calmness. I stayed in bed, fully alert, my mind dancing with the possibilities, theoretical musings on time-travel, memories, and a deep sadness for I would never get to see my loved ones again. I finally managed to quiet this utter chaos and discipline my turbulent thoughts into a plan of action. The priority was getting into Hogwarts which meant mail to Headmaster Dumbledore. But first and foremost, I was famished.

I was received a few days later. After seeing Hogwarts defeated, brought to its knees, in tatters and ruins, going back was strange. How could I not superimpose my version of it to this unsullied one? It felt alien to me. This was not my Hogwarts, the school that witnessed my tears and my joys. That witnessed me grow up and assert myself. That witnessed me meet and bond with the best friends I will ever have or could ever hope for. That witnessed those I cared for die. This was not really my school and my heart wept for it and the loss of its purity— in my timeframe.

I suddenly felt very insignificant. Could I really do it? How foolish was I to think I could make a difference? I was nothing but a grain of sand on the beach, a drop of water in the ocean.

No. All my friends had died to protect our world and failed. I survived. I wouldn't fail them again. I would be the glitch that will even the odds. I would take my chances. There was nothing else I could do.

I'll admit meeting Professor Dumbledore was unnerving. When his clear blue eyes fixed on me, I seriously considered bolting through the door and out. Far, far away. But I stood my ground and concentrated on my parents. It wouldn't do for him to catch glimpses of my time, my world, my motivations, or my friends. No. No memory should be allowed to escape. I was quite sure he wouldn't Legilimens me, not without my permission. But with the passing years, I've come to believe he could unconsciously tap on the thoughts going through people's minds. I believe that's how he always seemed to know everything that went on in the school. There was no harm done in being careful and who better than myself to hide and bury my secrets in the deepest part of my mind? I fed him some made up story that I had fine-tuned with the help of Professor McGonagall about my parents living abroad, moving a lot and hiring private tutors on the way or my going on and off schools— never long enough to be remembered or formally registered. No way I could have be known by the British Ministry and thus enrolled into Hogwarts. I didn't mention they were both Muggle. It left much to be desired but it accounted both for my British accent and my absence. I'm still not quite sure he believed me, but he found no ground to call me out on it either. Or maybe he wasn't as distrustful yet and only saw a young, recently orphaned girl with a sad look in her eyes who had nowhere to turn to but the native country of her parents. In many ways—no, in _all_ the ways-it was true. Maybe his heart was still soft enough to give me the benefice of the doubt. As of now, I still don't know his reasons, but I'm grateful he did. Whatever happened next.

He patiently explained the workings of the school and my mind supplied in the meantime the need to fake losing my way in the school for the first few days or to allow the castle to trick me. I should work on it. I had no wish to trip in the stairs or get into the wrong corridor and walk all the long way to my classes. Especially since I could walk this castle in my sleep. So I smiled to him and listened vaguely as he droned on the rules and places, on Houses and classes and Quidditch, on housemates and inter-House competition. He laughed lightly, mistaking my disinterest and daydream for a difficulty to process an excessive amount of information. He got up and reverently took the Sorting Hat from his position on a shelf. Did he wish to Sort me again? I felt like an eleven-year-old Muggleborn again. The Hat will see through me, there was no doubt about this. What if it ratted me out? Refused to Sort me? Or worse, claimed it already had? I must have looked downright terrified because Professor Dumbledore suddenly put a hand on my shoulder and softly offered reassuring words to me. When I turned my gaze on him, he smiled benevolently and put the Hat on my head.

It was lighter than I remembered. And my head must have grown bigger because it didn't fell on my eyes like it did the previous time. At first, the Hat was silent. It didn't even murmur. It just stayed there, like an oversized and ridiculous crown. Before it began talking with me, I wonder if it was a catch in its thinking or a gasp that I perceived. But there definitely was something. The Hat must have found my memory of it.

"You know me. And somehow, I've sorted you before," he began as an introduction, "but I'm sure I've never sat on your head until now."

What could I say? What could I do? What should I do or say? Should I offer the whole memory rather than the fragment it had stumbled upon? Should I attempt to explain? What to say? How much should I withhold? Before I could make my mind, the Hat spoke again.

"It's very unusual to Sort someone your age. About eighteen, isn't it? Odd, very odd that you're still attending school. But the Headmaster shall have the last say and in turn I shall Sort. But I will know your secrets, my girl, because there is nothing hidden in your head that I cannot see."

I clasped my hands in my lap, wondering if the Hat would sell me out. But it laughed slightly and put my doubts at rest. All the undisclosed information I possessed would be kept safe.

"Such loyalty." It began. "A rare trait that doesn't usually transcend death. But your heart and your head is full of it. Should I put you in Hufflepuff?"

I snorted slightly.

"Such bravery." It continued. "You are a true Gryffindor, aren't you? Did I Sort you there the last time? Ah, yes, I see now that I did. You do possess courage and daring in great amount. For you have set yourself on a difficult and adventurous path, trying to do the right thing and being all chivalrous. You would do well again there, I am sure."

I wondered fleetingly if I would feel comfortable there. My friends wouldn't be there and seeing Harry's parents all the time might be too much to bear. At least, there should be no Weasley at school so no one would remind me daily of Ron.

"Such knowledge." The Hat went on, unperturbed by my thoughts streaming into its consciousness. "What a wonderful addition to Ravenclaw you would make. Such a thirst for learning and dear love for books."

Ravenclaw was Luna's House. Could I really manage to decipher the riddles to be granted entrance into my own dormitory? I might do good there. I might not be ridiculed for my quirks or my working habits. Or maybe I would, I thought again as memories of Luna's shoes dangling in the hallways assaulted me.

"There's cunning too. And resolve. A strong will to prove yourself. Oh, Slytherin could help you reach your goal. You could be great there. And you'd be closer to your objective, wouldn't you?"

Slytherin. I hadn't even thought possible to be Sorted there. I was a Muggleborn. They would kill me in my sleep before they accepted me into their House. No, Slytherin would be dreadful, even if I would be closer to Severus Snape. Gryffindor would make it all the more difficult for me personally but I could try to befriend Lily there and sway her mind somehow concerning my Potions teacher. I might feel at ease in Ravenclaw but I knew I'd hate being in Hufflepuff. I waited for the Hat to determine where it shall Sort me. I assume it listened to my own opinions on the matter. I knew for a fact that it took Harry's into account. I shudder just imagining what would have happened should Harry be Sorted into Slytherin.

"You'll be a RAVENCLAW," it finally shouted for the Headmaster to hear.

He introduced me to the whole school on the next Monday, arguing they would need the following days to arrange everything. First, he decided to set up a scholarship. I had money of my own. I had transferred my Gringott account into Muggle money before going on the run with Harry and Ron. After their demise, I had gone back to the Muggle world and found some small employment there so that I never had to use my savings. I had withdrawn all my money from the bank and stashed it into my bottomless bag before time-travelling. And professor McGonagall gave me some money of her own. I wasn't rich, but I wasn't desperate either. However, if the Headmaster wanted to grant me some scholarship, I wasn't about to decline the offer. I was no Malfoy either. Then, I had to get school robes, the 6th year books, and the necessities for Potions. Setting up a Gringott account could also be a good idea. All in all, a few days was just what I needed to get ready.

I felt slightly nauseous as I stood in front of the Dining Hall of Hogwarts. Getting back was difficult as memories assaulted me relentlessly. Each and every corner reminded me of a special moment we had shared. And the prospect of standing before the whole school wasn't particularly enticing either.

Then the Headmaster introduced me as Hermione Barnett, a transfer student. He calmly explained I came back recently due to family business, and he wished for all of them to help me should I need it. I stood my ground, held my chin high and clasped my hands behind my back. I had faced full-grown Death-Eaters, I wasn't going to be intimidated by students. But my stomach churned and I refused to meet anyone's eyes. Could I do it? Doubt crept in and tears threatened as once again I was faced with the enormity of my endeavour. I saw the ghost of my child self, sitting on the stool, before the gathering of students for my Sorting. I saw Ron and Harry bickering at the Gryffindor table. I saw Malfoy at the Slytherin table as he sneered and pointed at us. I saw the bodies of those I loved lying on the cold ground. I heard the Weasley family crying. I pointedly looked ahead and fisted my hands until they hurt. Finally, I was applauded by the Ravenclaw table and the familiar sound brought me back to my current predicament. I gathered my wits and my courage and joined those who were smiling encouragingly at me. A new adventure was beginning. If only Harry and Ron were there to share it.

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A/N : Now, what about a review? Virtual cookies and endless gratitude in return...


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer : definitely not mine.

A/N: Thanks to my beta and those of you who follow me. Special thanks to those who took the time to review, Jacquelacina and Sampdoria. Cheers to you!

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 **Chapter 5: Sixth year, November**

A cheater. I was nothing but a cheater. Pretending I couldn't find my way in Hogwarts, pretending I didn't know anyone, pretending I didn't know where stood the entrance to Gryffindor, pretending I didn't know the Marauders dirty little secrets, pretending I had no idea what some of them would become, pretending I was sixteen. Makeup on my arm, Glamour and long sleeves to hide my scars. False name. False ingenuity. I even knew the curriculum, I had already done it. I would have to lie and cheat again and again.

That made it all the more so difficult to adjust. After two years on the run, going back to school felt alien. And playing the schoolgirl, whose major concerns were the upcoming exams, boys and reputation was almost too much to bear. Especially since I have never been this kind of student. Being Harry Potter's best friend had its quirks. And having a nice, horror-free, danger-less school year was not one of them. It still makes me smile, despite all we've faced. My memories of them is all I have now and I shall not share them nor part from them.

Time flied. December was upon us so quickly I hadn't realized I've already spent almost two months there. I hadn't really made friends. I didn't expect to. I didn't even really want to. I would never find friends like those I lost.

Ravenclaw wasn't what I expected. They weren't all hell bent on working, and there weren't enigmas to be deciphered in every corner. All in all, it suited me rather nicely, and it was a relief to be in another House than Gryffindor. I honestly don't think I could have stand it. Too many memories lurked there, whereas in Ravenclaw, I could almost pretend all was well and I was not aware of the failings of the Magical World. And Ravenclaws weren't as loud as Gryffindors.

Notwithstanding any comparison with Harry or Ron, my roommates were nice enough. They could only be an improvement after Lavender and Parvati anyway. Amalthea was shy almost to a fault, a quiet fair-haired girl with startling blue eyes. She had a soft, melodious voice and hearing her talk with the others usually helped put me to sleep. Sarah reminded me of Ginny what with her flaming red hair and flaring temper. Gillian was the most moderate of the three, studious but easy-going. She had an open mind and seemed reasonable enough. She didn't judge someone on the first impression but could act on the spur of the moment if she deemed it for the greater good. She summed up any situation accurately and in case of doubt or necessity, I would go to her and seek her advice. They welcomed me, and I have to concede, I enjoyed working with them.

The Marauders were noisy. Hopefully, Gryffindor Table was far away from us. Still, I could see them interact. Were we always that annoying Harry, Ron and I? I most certainly hope not. I did recognize the glares sent to Slytherin table however. This hadn't changed much over the course of the years. The Marauders and Severus Snape hated each other at least as much as we did with Malfoy. Could it partly explain our Potions teacher's dislike for us? I can understand — but not condone— his resentment towards Harry, who really was the spitting image of his father. But Ron and I, we were never part of his personal history. Did he consider us the new Marauders ganging against poor, defenceless Slytherin Malfoy? If so, his trauma from school must have run deeper than expected. It must have cost him so much to come back to teach. His love for Lily, it was obsessive and unhealthy. It must have consumed him all his life. I can relate; losing Ron was still as heart wrenching as when it happened. But I knew I had to keep going because living on memories and replay would not bring him back. And even if I managed to make ripples strong enough to keep them alive, I would still never be able to take up where we left things off. Never again would I be able to talk to them as I used to. Never again would I be able to call them my best friends. That time was over. Knowing they were alive, happy and safe would have to be enough.

Professor Dumbledore had me take my OWLs again because it wouldn't have been fair to the others if I could just choose any subject with nothing backing up my claims but my good will.

Charms and Arithmancy being my forte, there was no way I would have failed them. As Harry's sidekick, Defense was almost too easy. Considering my goal, I chose Potions and Herbology. I was good at it anyway. I kept Care of Magical Creatures, Transfiguration and Ancient Runes as personal interests. I dropped Divination, Astronomy, History of Magic and Muggle Studies without a care. Since I did well— it was afterall, only 4th and 5th year curriculum, I had several common lessons with Severus Snape. I had to admire him in potions; the way he brewed was mesmerizing. He would read the instruction and carefully prepare all the ingredients with a stiff back and tensed shoulders but as soon as his head poured over the cauldron, all his expression would change and his posture would relax. Sometimes, a fleeting displeasure would make him frown just before he chose to alter the brewing technique. I knew for a fact he had chosen to pursue Defense, Charms, Herbology and Arithmancy since we were also together. We were so few in some of them that it was easy to remember everyone. But I always had a hard time trying to find Severus Snape. He was as elusive as a wisp of smoke.

If I was a cheater, he was a shadow. He was unobtrusive, always hiding in a corner, his back to a wall. He was quiet and rarely answered a question without any prompting. He seemed to confine himself to secluded and isolated places. He spoke little and the very few times I heard him, I recognized his biting tone and acerbic inflection under the deep velvet of his mature voice. But he didn't seem as confident in it as I remembered the adult was. Pity.

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A/N : Reviews are always very very appreciated. ;-)


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Evrything belongs to JKR. Bless her for her story and for allowing us to play with the characters.

A/N: I've been away for holidays but I'm back now. I'll try to update more regularly.

As always, I'm deeply grateful to my beta and those who reviewed.

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 **Chapter 6: Sixth year, December**

I think we spoke together for the first time during the Christmas holidays. The feast had been terrific. The roof mimicked the night sky and the hall had been lit by hundreds, maybe thousands of candles floating in the air. It was a dizzying sight. Watching them glide was even nauseating after a while. The prefects, helped by the Head-Boy and Girl, had chosen an icy theme. All was blue and silver with some patches of green or gold. The trees were gigantic and imposing, their branches bowing under the weight of the ornaments. They were all shiny despite the dark mass of their foliage. The floor had been spelled to look like an ice-rink with occasionally little heaps of snow. The room itself was blue-coloured; its pale blue contrasted with the night sky, while the stars provided a glinting silvery spot. Some blue bubbles were drifting around, spiralling in space, dividing themselves, recomposing into weird forms and shapes. Some were zooming through the room. Some gathered and went up in a slow motion, exploding in a geyser and hovering over us before sprinkling on our heads like the blessing of some magical godmothers in fairy tales. Morning came and everyone left to enjoy the warmth of a home and a family, leaving the castle almost empty. Emptier than I ever remembered it. A few days later, nothing seemed to cheer me up. I wandered the halls in a desperate attempt to rid myself of the loneliness and despair clawing at me. I tried to chat up some portraits, to bury myself under a pile of books. I completed my homework easily, broke into the greenhouses to do some gardening, explored the Room of Requirement relentlessly, sneaked into the prefect bathroom, watched the squid's ripples onto the lake for hours on end. But nothing would make the hard truth any less painful. I was all alone— friends, blood and adopted family alike dead — and hopelessly sad.

The morning of Christmas day was horrendous. I closed my eyes and willed myself asleep again. But of course, sleep eluded me and left me awake, wondering if I would come to dread this day above all. When I finally managed to muster enough courage and willpower, I scrambled out of bed and down to breakfast. It was after all still early and there were so very few students left in the castle. Those awake who stayed were most certainly opening presents in their dorms, sharing chocolate frogs or other treats with their friends and joking around. Dinner hall was empty. Empty but for one person. Severus Snape. After all my unsuccessful attempts to find him, he sat there, quietly reading a book as if he hadn't a care in the world. And maybe he hadn't. He wasn't yet a Death Eater— as far as I knew. The Marauders were all at home— except Sirius who was at James' parents home. Harry used to spend most of his time at Ron's home too. I smiled sadly as an image of my friends with their trunks done and laughing together before going to the Burrow swam before my eyes. Tears pooled and rolled silently down my cheeks. I wiped them angrily and strode down towards the Slytherin table.

"May I?" Two beady black eyes looked up at me as he slowly lowered his book.

"You're not a Slytherin."

"Is there a rule I'm not aware of that forbids me to sit with you?"

"Ask a teacher. Or better yet, go check at the library. I suggest _Hogwarts, a History_."

"Oh my! You're the chatty type, aren't you?"

"Have all your friends gone home?"

"I don't have friends."

"Seem pretty popular to me." He replied with a disdainful air.

"That's not friendship." I snapped as I lowered my gaze slightly and hid my tightly fisted hands behind my back. I just needed some companionship. Did it have to be so difficult? "Could we just eat and talk together?" I asked desperately. "Please?"

"I've already had breakfast," he said evenly, his dark gaze fixated on me, "and I'm reading. But you can join me if you want."

I ate in silence. No one ever said Severus Snape was forthcoming. But I used the opportunity to take a good look at him. I recognized the mid-length black hair that fell short just under his shoulders and the way he would subtly incline his head so that his locks would obscure his face from scrutiny. I was familiar with his long, hooked nose; as unmistakable and unalterable as my untamed hair. I have to admit, years hadn't been kind to him. Maybe his Death-Eater activities or his spying aged him unnaturally early, because as I looked at him, I couldn't seem to find the thin, weary lines I had always associated with him nor the hateful sneer that had always adorned his lips, which by the way were most certainly not as thin as I've known them to be. But the most striking difference was in his posture. Nowhere could I find the confident, powerful aura he had exuded as a teacher. The menacing quality that had made Neville quiver in fear for hours before class were glaringly absent from his stance and his gaze both. There was a little something, a fleeting spark of darkness that lurked deep down and perked up when he felt threatened but nothing of the striking theatricalities he had performed in his class. No billowing cloak, no throaty whispering voice, not even silly wand-waving as he once dubbed it. No plain old-style power either. He was subdued and unremarkable. Maybe that was why he had been such an upper-class spy. His propensity to dissolve into shadows and quietness, to disappear into a nondescript, characterless nobody. It was sad. Such a loss, such a complete waste of an otherwise inspired mind. Somehow, I felt pity. Most of all, it was anger. Why would Headmaster Dumbledore, head of the Order of the Phoenix, warrior against Grindelwald, supposedly working towards a better world, allow one of his most talented student to go to waste and wallow in hate in complete indifference from his tutors? His non-interference about the Marauders, the teachers' disregard about his situation at home, their apathy towards his inclinations for the Dark Arts, their lack of concern about his acquaintances... How could they have let it happen under their nose and never lift a finger to help him? How could they let a child be bullied until becoming a Death-Eater seemed the only reasonable answer? I ate in silence and chewed angrily. Apparently, my scrutiny had drawn his attention as he suddenly lowered his book to fix me with a dirty look.

"Why are you looking at me with a weird face?" He snapped.

"That's next year curriculum, isn't it?" I dodged, with a slight nod towards the heavy volume in his hands. Luckily, he was as bookish as me. I could safely ground myself on small talk to cover my undisputable staring. He grunted and I took it as an encouragement to pursue the conversation, no matter if it was rather one-sided. "I've watched you in Potions." He glowered and I went on, unperturbed. "You're a natural, aren't you? I could never achieve such a smooth brewing."

"That's because you're relying on the instructions."

"Maybe." I conceded. The notion of asking for his help crossed my mind but I discarded it as quickly as it came. Distrustful as he was, there was no way he'd accept. A thought occurred to me as I munched absent-mindedly on my toast. "Perhaps you'd consider partnering with me next time?"

He looked at me as if I'd just lost my marbles and went straight back to his book without comment. An optimist would fancy it as the beginning of an everlasting friendship. A romantic would fantasize about a budding eternal love. Sadly, I was neither. I knew it was nothing more than him tolerating me during breakfast because nobody was around. Since I was more inclined as a pessimist, I even surmised he passed it off as temporary mental illness. Fact is, he was still there and I would be eternally grateful for this. I finished my meal in silence then withdrew a book of my own from my bag. I don't know how long we stayed there. Tea even appeared. Time must have flown by. I fleetingly wondered if we would spend the whole day reading together in the Great Hall. When he finally stood up and told me he was leaving, my still relatively low hopes spiralled down. This Christmas definitely hit the charts as the worse one ever. To this day, I still don't know how, but in the end, I survived this nightmare. The rest of the holidays were spent in relative quiet. I was unburdened by the inner turmoil that had tormented me on Christmas day. I crossed path with Severus once or twice. He nodded, acknowledging my presence, but didn't seem to find it necessary to speak to me. Progress, progress. The days stretched by languidly, while I spent my time counting minutes trickle by. I was relieved to see the other students come back. It should bring some life back into the silent castle.

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A/N : Would you consider leaving a review?


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer : it belongs to JKR.

A/N : Thank you Dlbn and thank you readers.

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 **Chapter 7: Sixth year, January / February**

Days inexorably piled up and Severus Snape had still to talk to me since Christmas. I must say I had always been quite the loner. Not by choice but I didn't seem to attract much friendliness. If Harry and Ron had not been there, I can't say I'd have had much luck finding friends. Then there had been Ginny— we related because she was Ron's sister at first— and Luna who befriended Harry. Neville, whom I petrified. That was the extent of my real friends back home. And I didn't seem to be able to do better now. I was so far from Lily's or Ginny's popularity. Was I bothered? Yes— and no. It didn't really matter. Part of me died with them and no one could ever compare with them. Maybe I wasn't making much effort either I contemplated one evening, sitting on my windowsill and watching the clouds gathering thunderously in the sky. On impulse, I grabbed my heavy cloak and sprang out into the frozen grounds, running as fast as my legs would carry me, running towards the rain that was sure to fall, running until I was soaked through and panting. I covered the grounds around the lake, and came back up to collapse on the Quidditch pitch, tears still refusing to drop and release me. Memories assaulted me as I laid there, unmoving, silent, not even bothering to try to cover up my misery. Night had come anyway and everyone was safely and warmly tucked away in the castle. Nobody missed me and, regretfully, there was no one in that damn castle that I would have been willing to go to. Comfort came in strange form that night. I was seriously considering spending the night there when a dark silhouette approached. Wand at the ready, I remained still, curses and hexes already on the tip of my tongue. Reflexes die hard and a few months back in relative peace had not been enough to kick the habit. Under my own protective spell, I watched the person walk leisurely towards me. Not a woman, judging by the gait. An adult would have scolded me by then. A boy then. He plopped down beside me and sighed contentedly. I recognized him then. Sirius. I relaxed the grip on my wand.

"Lovely evening," he drawled.

I blinked. Lovely evening? After that pouring rain? That must have been the lamest approach I ever heard. I snickered. Merlin, that felt good.

"Are you seriously laughing at me?"

"Seriously, Sirius? God, yes. What are you doing outside?"

"Saw you out there. Reckoned I could keep you company. You know, being new and everything... It must be difficult sometimes."

"That's nice of you."

"Yes, because I'm a very nice person." He replied airily. I stifled the urge to snigger again.

"Is that your usual chat-up line? It leaves a lot to be desired."

I don't know how much time passed as he stayed with me. It was nice. When I closed my eyes, I could almost pretend I was back with Harry, saying nonsense and teasing each other. This is something we would have done. Of all people, that Sirius would come looking for me, when I would be or already had tried to save his life, was ironic. He was the same, but he was different. The hollowness, the lurking darkness had yet to be ensconced in his heart and soul. He was carefree and it felt good. I laughed more in the time we spent together than the previous months combined. For a moment, I forgot my wretchedness, my goal, my mission. I forgot the looming war and the decisive actions to be taken. I laid my burden at my feet and pretended all was well. I had apparently been in much need of a respite and suddenly felt grateful to Sirius, despite his bullying of Severus, despite his cockiness, his too-loud voice and flirty attitude. He had offered me a memory to cherish, a glimpse into what I was striving for. I had been sucked into this war for so long I had forgotten how the world I was fighting for felt like. Sirius had given me a reason to get up the next morning. He had given me another purpose too. Maybe, in the midst of all this corrupted world, I could learn to live again. After all, I will forever be a part of this world, for better or worse. My mind had understood, my heart hadn't. After that night, I knew I had to come to terms with this harsh truth. I now belonged to this old world and I will have to find a way to relate with the people of this timeline. There simply was no other way.

And another miracle happened. After all the bad hand and rotten luck I had been dealt with, miracles kept happening to me. Forever untold miracles. I managed to find and acquire a Time-Turner, no mean feat by itself even if I say so myself. I Travelled safely. Unhurt. Years back. At the exact Time I had wished for. And Earth seems no worse from it. Small, insignificant miracles for anyone but larger than life for me. I survived Voldemort's victory. Professor McGonagall survived— at least long enough to help me, encourage me, even hug me. I managed to salvage and secure a few pictures of my best friends. I had spent Christmas morning with Severus Snape and he talked to me today. I mean, not just a passing comment or acknowledgement of my presence in the same room. No, I mean an actual, intelligent conversation. Better yet, he offered to work with me for the project assigned in class. On second thought, I shouldn't quote these too loud or I might get committed to St Mungo's and locked up for insanity. Judging by my excitement, maybe I should volunteer.

It had been weeks since Christmas. I knew he had kept an eye on me— I had felt the weight of his stare, answered his nod when he acknowledged me, knew he noticed my exact location in every class we shared, was aware of my grades or answers to teachers. It should have been creepy. It honestly should have freaked me out. But I was oddly flattered. As far as I understood it, he was considering the possibility of associating with me, weighing the pros and cons, evaluating what was the most beneficial considering his actual status— which was low, and his goals— which were ambitious. And he was a Slytherin through and through. The fact Sirius was flirting with me most certainly hadn't helped my case. Was it my fault that spending a few hours in the cold and muddy grass sharing meaningless jokes had ranked me up in his most-wanted-girls-to-bed list? This, on the contrary hadn't flattered me one bit. It should have. Sirius was outgoing and boisterous. He was handsome and easy to talk to. He was intelligent and witty. He was nice to me and very courteous. I definitely should have been flattered— especially as I've never really been noticed and chatted up. And some small insignificant traitorous part of me was, to be perfectly honest. I felt pretty when Sirius sidled to me and tried to get me to go traipsing somewhere with him. I felt overwhelmed when he took my bag or my books. I blushed when he winked at me in the Great Hall. But I felt guilty each time I thought about Ron— or Harry. I felt angry when he spoke ill of Severus. I felt annoyed when I heard his loud laugh somewhere in the school. I felt like shaking him until his teeth shattered when he was his usual arrogant conceited self. I felt like slapping him senseless when he bullied others. Too bad I couldn't use Ginny's Bad-Bogey hex. It would certainly have done him a world of good and spared me the insulting embarrassment of sending him on his way. And I had no idea how many opportunities to relate to Severus he ruined. But hey, in the end, it worked in my favour anyway.

As I listlessly listened to our Potion teacher droning on about exams and ingredients and whatnot, I wondered what I could do to keep my friends alive. Then suddenly, I felt his eyes on me. Not just the kind of surreptitious looks he had contented himself to until then but a very insistent and slightly peeved one. I looked up and around and noticed people shuffling around, settling together to work. I drew a blank. I stared back at him, my mind unable to apprehend the simplest fact: he was accepting me as a work partner. And then his voice cut the air as acidly as possible, as viciously as I remembered, the deep baritone not wholly achieved, not quite perfectly mastered and my feet instinctively took me to him. I knew this tone and it didn't bode well for the few students foolhardy enough not to recognize the threat in our Potions Teacher's words. The vitriol in his voice had always utterly contrasted with the soft velvety tones.

"Coming or not, Barnett?"

Conversations ceased, heads snapped up and turned. Even our teacher stopped in mid-sentence. I had never heard Severus talk in class to another student. Judging by the incredulous stares around, it was a rare occurrence. And it was bestowed upon me. I felt flattered again and smiled suddenly, a small upturn of the lips but he saw it and went back to his work, confident I wasn't going to insult him further by staying rooted on the spot or worse, refusing to join him. I noticed other students looking at me with wide horrified eyes as I almost bounced up towards him. I felt giddy and elated and honoured that he had finally voted in my favour. Severus Snape, future Death Eater, Dark Arts adept, spy extraordinaire and soon to be one of the youngest Potion Master ever had agreed to work with me in Potions. I mean, Potions. He had nothing to gain, he was so far better than I could ever hope to become. And yet, here we were, the whole class rendered speechless whether because he had spoken aloud, because he was talking to me or because I was unmistakably delighted to work with the most rude, acidic, shabby and ill-liked student of our year, I could not tell.

A simple trip to St Mungo please. Right away.

No. Nothing would dampen my spirit that day.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer : still not mine.

A/N: As always, thank you Dlbn for your time and dedication despite everything's happening and thanks to those of you who left a review.

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 **Chapter 8: Sixth year, March**

We were the talk of the school. One would think pairing in class wasn't such a big deal, especially in sixth year when each and every one of us was already striving for the next year NEWTS, especially as it was often the case for difficult potions. But the rumour mill was up and running and we had become the sole interest of those gossipmongers. Severus hid away in his dorms most of the time while I stood my ground and refused to be browbeaten into submission. I would do exactly as I wished.

"May I?" A voice interrupted me softly as I worked, immersed in a heavy tome, gathering information for the essay we had been assigned in Runes. I looked up into green eyes and lowered my book in a silent invitation to join me.

"Sure." I answered.

"I'm Lily Evans." She introduced herself.

"I'm Hermione."

What else as there to say? It's not like we didn't already know who we were. She put her bag down at the foot of the chair and it scraped on the floor as she pulled it back to sit on it. She took out a book of her own and started to read. Taking the hint, I slightly shrugged and turned back to my own. Several minutes passed in silence before I noticed her reading pace. Either she was a very slow reader or her mind was elsewhere since she had yet to turn another page. I looked at her and wondered why she came here.

I had to admit she was pretty. Not Ginny's fiery beauty. Not Lavender's makeup beauty. Not Padma's exotic beauty. Not Daphne Greengrass's sophisticated beauty. Not Luna's eerie beauty. Lily could be as wild as Ginny for sure but she seemed quieter. The oval of her face, the emerald of her eyes, the flaming red of her hair, her pink full lips, the creamy colour of her skin, the peach quality of it, the easy smile and soft curls. Oh, I could understand why Severus Snape was madly in love with her. She was more than pretty. She was beautiful and she was well-liked as a just and unprejudiced prefect. She might have sensed my eyes on her because she sighed softly and lowered her still unread book.

"Can I ask you something? Something personal, I mean?"

Could I refuse without seeming openly hostile? Not really. Did I want to satisfy her inquisitiveness? Certainly not. Was this how Professor Snape used to feel when I raised my hand in the air to ask a question as a small girl? If so, I might be more inclined to overlook his rude and unpleasant manners. Might.

"I'm listening."

Never said I had to answer though. I believe she was smart enough to understand it.

"I've noticed you spend a lot of time with Severus."

Ah, Gryffindors' subtility. I had forgotten. No time as the present, isn't it? Why losing time pondering how to broach a sensitive subject when you could barge in and shoot away?

In the last two months since the Potions assignment, I had indeed spent most of my free time with him — mostly at the library though. We had developed a very tentative, very fragile peace and I had hoped it would lead to a more trusting relation. But it seemed to have raised red alarms all over the castle. The teachers had been overlooking us — I've felt the weight of their gaze on us more than once. My dorm mates had tried to discourage me. The Marauders were certainly outdoing themselves in finding and pestering us, always driving him away in the end — one way or another. Sirius seemed to have made it his life goal to win me over and steer me away from Severus. Even some Slytherins had hissed at me as I sat with him in class or when we went our separate way after a work session. Everywhere I turned, I seemed to be discouraged to pursue any interaction with him. As if they could intimidate me. I had faced Bellatrix Lestrange. I had felt Voldemort's power. I had fended off Death-Eaters as a teenager. I had fought and lost a war. As if some angry whispers and snide remarks would deter me. What a bunch of idiots. But Lily? I hadn't thought she would stoop so low.

I chose not to answer her. I could have gone with a disdainful _yes, so?_ but decided there was no need to antagonize her before hearing her out. I looked at her pointedly, waiting for her to talk again. Sometimes, silence was far more eloquent. And there was nothing I was willing to divulge on the matter for the time being. At least, she had used his first name. I assumed I could give her a good point.

"I don't know if you've heard about the political debates going on around recently."

"Are you talking about the traditional pureblood eugenic ideals? Yes, I'm aware." My answer seemed to throw her off balance. Did she think I believed in it also? "How does it relate to Severus?" I asked, throwing her an olive branch.

She suddenly seemed more at ease, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Really, people were so blissfully naïve and ignorant.

"Severus is of the kind that believes magic should be reserved for a privileged few. His friends are a nasty group and I wouldn't want to see you caught in the crossfire. You seem nice enough to be told what you'll be letting yourself in for."

No. Severus didn't believe in all that tripe. How could she presume this? Had they not been friends for years? Severus Snape didn't associate with Death-Eaters because he believed in the cause. Severus Snape only wished for a place to belong, peers who would recognize his worth, allies willing to help him, a leader who would grant him enough fire power to protect himself and he had turned to the Dark Arts as the easiest and quickest way towards his goal: becoming powerful enough that he would be the one who would pose a threat, not the one who was bullied and pushed around. So he let them ensnare him with false promises. He was sixteen, backed in a corner, afraid and alone. Lily, his only true friend, his only beacon to the good side had abandoned him. The only one he had ever wanted to impress. And she had turned her back on him because she couldn't stomach the pressure of the endeavour. I understand it was intimidating. I understand he had hurt her feelings. I understand it must have been hard to fight for him despite his own tendencies. I understand he was a difficult and obsessive man and that she may not have been willing to allow him to cling to her so much. But in the end, knowing what I know, I guess she had been wrong. I think it was worse because he turned fully to Voldemort when she walked out of his life. And he still loved her obsessively until he died, seventeen years later.

The greater good… No, she did it to protect herself. Should I tell her that shunning him was the worse idea that could have popped in her mind? Should I tell her she was a coward and nothing more? Merlin help me, I had run away with Harry to destroy some pieces of Voldemort's soul. Couldn't she be brave enough to support and tolerate him in her life? She may have been Harry's mother. He may have inherited her eyes. She may be popular and nice and lovely and soft-spoken to everyone. She may be a member of the Order in a few years ahead. She may sacrifice herself for her child. In the end, at sixteen, she was a bloody coward. And I don't like cowards. I had no respect for her. I should have. But I didn't. Not for her, not for the others. Not after everything I went through in my own timeline. Not after all my generation will be suffering. Not after the mess they left for us to clean. Not when I saw them, every single day, laughing and joking and being carefree and living their life as if the existing threat was just that. Some vague threat just good for heated arguments around a glass of firewhiskey. My friends died. My teachers died. Adults I respected died. Severus Snape died. Even Draco died. No, I couldn't bring myself to respect her or to feel sad for her. She had no need for my sympathy, she had the whole castle's. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to tell her that either. I just stared at her and smiled wryly.

"Thank you for your concern, Lily. It's very nice of you."

What a fat load of rubbish.

She seemed discombobulated that I wasn't considering breaking all ties with him on the spot because miss Prefect had told me he was making bad acquaintances. Like I wasn't aware of it. Honestly. She really took me for an idiot.

"You know, Hermione, I used to be friend with Severus. For years, I stuck with him. But he has changed. He is not the same person that I knew. And I honestly can't say I like him much now. He is bitter, nasty and mean. I don't recognize him and I want nothing to do with the person he has become thanks to his friends," she spat aggressively the last word.

Maybe I couldn't despise her as much as I thought. There was something in her voice, some vague undertone of sadness under all the resentment and anger that made me pause. Maybe I had judged her entirely guilty a little bit too quickly. She still had thrown in the towel without much prompting.

"The temptation is too great for him Lily. He is an easy prey and he's falling quickly but I believe in him. He's good at heart. There's always hope. But one has to be prepared to do all the self-sacrifices necessary. He's not lost to your cause even if he's straying away from it."

She looked thoughtful then her eyes zoomed on me and held my own stare.

"So if I understand correctly, you're just trying to bring him back to the opposite cause?"

What that right? Was that my sole concern? Making him change his mind and turn his coat before it was too late so that I would modify the path we were on? If that were even possible?

I knew I began my journey with some similar objective. Make a ripple in time, even a small one that would keep my friends alive. This was my sole concern. My goal. My mission. My raison-d'être.

Where did Severus stand in all that? Was he just a pawn on my chessboard? No, of course not. I've come to know him a little better and with my inside knowledge, I believe I understood him a little better too. I was impressed by his knowledge and academic curiosity. I was concerned by his mastering of Dark Arts at such a young age. I felt content when we worked together. I felt challenged when we argued. I felt reassured when I could see him. I felt annoyed when we were pestered. I felt angered when he was bullied. I felt warmer when I saw him coming towards me, stacks of books in his arms, a frown on his face and a sneer on his lips to veil his shyness and worry. No, he was not a simple pawn that I could manipulate as I saw fit. He was not yet a friend but he was still more than a simple acquaintance.

"No Lily. That's not what I meant. If he changed his mind, that would only be an added bonus. But I'm spending time with him because he's nice to me— most of the time at least and I simply like being with him. You have no idea what I've witnessed. You've no idea what I've been through. The arguments around the castle seem very petty and childish to me. I know some of the horrors humans can inflict upon others. I know how disastrously ugly some people can become. I've seen and heard— so much Lily, so much. Severus — he's not like that. He has lost his way but he has never had much help or luck to begin with, has he? He's good at heart. As long as I believe it, I'll stick with him. And I won't let anyone tell me he's a nasty little piece of trash because there are many around here who should ponder on their own character and actions before they pass judgment."

"You sure seem confident, Hermione."

"What about?"

"I've known Severus since kindergarten and you met him a mere six months ago. I sincerely hope you're right about him but I doubt it. You are cold and distant towards everyone. I've noticed, you know. It's my duty as a prefect to notice things like that. You say people shouldn't pass judgment but this is exactly what you're doing. I can hear in your voice you're angry against me but I can't fathom the reason why. You know, I only wanted you to have all the facts."

Being chastised didn't appeal to my softer side. But she wasn't entirely wrong either. I was angry against her. I was cold and distant to everyone. I had passed judgment on them all— and found them guilty of negligence and bullying. I didn't come here for friends. Mine were dead. War had made me bitter, opinionated and unyielding. I used to be different— moderately at least.

"Look, I'm not trying to antagonize anyone or to quarrel with you. I've seen too much to have any will for this. I'm just trying to get the best grades and finish my studies in peace. Severus and I, we only work together. Why is everyone so bothered by it? How is that a major offense?" She didn't seem to have any answer to that and looked at me thoughtfully. I couldn't care less about her opinion about me. "He is being bullied so much, Lily. I can't stand it. You're a Prefect. Tell me why nobody seems to care."

"He doesn't want any help. I tried Hermione. He didn't want me to interfere. And he's spoiling for a fight with his attitude."

"Are you justifying bullying? Nothing can excuse it. It's inherently wrong. And I maintain he's not a bad guy. I will not stop meeting him or working with him because this whole school has decided his fate. I tell you he's not the villain you all seem to believe he is."

"Let's hope you're right." She sighed and began tidying up her place. "You can always come to me if need be," she offered but I must have looked thunderous because she didn't stop there and added "or any other Prefect."

This encounter definitely left a bitter taste in my mouth.

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A/N : What about reviewing?


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer : The plot and the characters belong to JKR — forever.

A/N : Hello everyone ! It's been a while and I'm sorry about it. For those still here, I'm very glad. Thank you.

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 **Chapter 9 : Sixth year, April**

A month had passed. Then a second one, interrupted by Lily's meddling. Indeed, even a third had and still, apart from the time in class and the stolen moments of work we did in the library, Severus was still glaringly absent, no doubt thanks to Sirius's renewed interest in him. I was still being looked at distrustfully, conversations shushed when I came into the room. Honestly, it was just work. Did they expect me to look as if I'd been condemned to a life-sentence? I worked with one of the greatest mind of our year, for Merlin's sake. True, he was rude and sarcastic and mean most of the time. He wasn't well-dressed nor well-groomed nor rich. He certainly wasn't the most attractive boy in school and didn't do much to improve. But he was intelligent and challenging. I had always dimmed all I knew, all I'd learned because I was looked upon as the bookish one, the stern one, the kill-joy, the stuck-up one. I had finally found someone like me and I was supposed to what? Turn my nose up? Certainly not. So I continued to walk with my chin high in defiance, ignoring the hustle and bustle around me. Harry did it for six years, surely, I could endure it a few months. I had been publically labelled all but a slut by Rita Skeeter and sent Howlers by complete strangers in fourth year. I wasn't going to be deterred and cowed so easily to their whimsical, prejudiced habits. I walked with a perpetual sneer. I do believe even Draco would have been proud of it— I certainly copied it from him.

Rage simmered inside me as I was daily confronted to the deliberate and collective shunning of Severus as well as the teachers' blatant indifference. The Prefects, as well as the Head Girl and Boy, averted their gaze to bullying. Shame on them all. Days after days of witnessing it, made it increasingly difficult to prevent the dam from breaking. I had never been one to accept this kind of behaviour. And if taking Severus' side was nothing like S.P.E.W, it was still incredibly sickening for me to behold the length to which my fellow students were willing to go to hurt one of us. Only the Slytherins didn't seem to will him any harm. They never rose higher in my esteem. My beloved teachers never sank as low. I was seething. The Marauders regularly managed to get hold of Severus. I knew better than to intervene no matter how nasty, no matter how unfair the fight or how humiliating for Severus. He was after all, used to it. I never had any illusion about this. My presence only heightened already existing tensions. But if I couldn't help directly, nothing prevented me from reporting it, which I did. Loudly. Publicly. Persistently. To all the Prefects. To the Head Girl and Boy. To every teacher I could find. To the Head of Slytherin. To my Head of House. To the Headmaster. To no avail. No-one seemed willing to stick his neck out for him. I fumed. But I didn't give up. There was no way I'd ever give up on a just cause. It wasn't about Severus anymore. It wasn't about Harry and Ron either. It wasn't about the looming war. It was pure absolute conviction that something must be done, that someone must speak up. And when my own house subtly hinted and turned on me yet again during a meal, I snapped. I suddenly stood up and slammed my fists on the table, snarling my anger. The Hall gradually shushed as my voice got louder.

"Shame on you! All of you! You're just a bunch of uncivilised appalling hypocrites acting no better than degenerated scoundrels. Behind all your niceties and masks and fancy clothes and amiable words and loud laughter, you're despicable. No one in this damn castle is interested in anything else that his own little person. You may be rich or come from a good background. You may be charming or handsome or pretty. You may be girl or boy, first year or seventh year. Have good grades or barely scrape by. There is not a single person here with enough courage to stand up for one of us, disgraceful egoists that you all are. You shame and intimidate and push around and mock and bully those who are less lucky than you. You talk behind my back, call me names and spread rumours. You whisper and sneer and point at Severus and me. And why? Because you don't like him. Because you're angry I do not behave like you. Because you expect me to bestow my friendship on you rather than him. You know what? He's nice to me. He's witty and he can sustain an intelligent conversation for more than two ridiculously small sentences, something I'm profoundly grateful for and you can't seem to do even in your self-righteous outrage. I am not sorry I do not fit your stereotypical, prejudiced, imbecile and narrow-minded ideal. I am not sorry to work with him in Potions. He knows more about it than I could ever hope to learn in this school. I am not going to mope around like you would all like to see me do. I will not stand by and let you humiliate us as if we'd done anything wrong. I will not remain silent when the Prefects turn their eyes away from bullying. I will not sit idly by when our Head students laugh alongside it. I will not bow down before our teachers when they aren't lifting a finger to protect us. I will continue working with Severus, like it or not. And I'll do it again. And again, and again. And I can assure you we'll both pass our NEWTs with flying colours that you can only ever dream about. I will not give in and lie low. I will not yield to your ludicrous shunning because I know what I do is right and what you all do is wrong. You should all be ashamed of yourself. I've more respect for those who murdered my friends and family than I have for you. At least, they had principles. At least, they fought for a cause. At least, they had some backbone. Now either you expel me for disrespect," I turned to the teachers briefly, "or shun me completely from now on and for the year to come or you could just swallow the bitter pill and leave us in peace. Either way, I do not care. It is not like I have a lot to look up to or a bright, pink future to expect. I have no happy family waiting for me and no good friends to joke with anymore. If you think I have any intention of being accommodating to you, you're barking up the wrong tree. And before you do decide to bully me, I shall enlighten you as my circumstances. War cost me my family, my relatives, my friends, my home and the most nice open friendly side of me. If you really believe I survived it by my good looks and lovely disposition, you will be sorely disappointed. I will not be made responsible for the outcome of your idiotic air-brained decisions and their consequences. I shall not be lumped together with backwards morons. Hereupon, I find that I have lost my appetite for tonight."

I would have gladly slammed the Great Doors behind me but alas, they were far too heavy. I decided a slow and dignified exit would be more impressive and strutted out slowly, the soft thudding of my shoes the only sound echoing in the now silent Hall. About dramatic leaving, I do believe I may have outdone Severus in his teaching time. I had no regrets. I spoke from the deepest part of my heart and they well deserved the tongue-lashing. They honestly had it coming. I was aware they could turn my life into a living hell. I knew the next few days would be hard and lonely. It wasn't as if my heart hadn't already shrivelled in my ribcage anyway. My House would certainly give me the cold shoulder. The Gryffindors would laugh and sneer and made generally unpleasant comments on my way. The Hufflepuffs would avert their eyes, mortified and regretful. The Slytherins would most certainly keep to themselves as they usually did, neither willing me any harm nor good. The Prefects would look out for any step I took out of line and sanction me harshly. The teachers would most certainly call me out and lecture me about the proper respect due to authority figures, about self-restrain, about my unbecoming lack of decorum, about the proper channel of requests, about minding my own business, about school regulations.

It is sad how predictable people are. All I had envisioned came to pass. The Headmaster had me brought up to his office where I was subjected to a disgustingly rehearsed sermon. Did he expect me to bow my head and take it in stride? He was sorely mistaken. If he had assumed I would cower and feel remorseful, he found himself in for a long ride. Not only didn't I act as he wanted me too, but I went into another long accusing tirade. The lenient look in his eyes dimmed then disappeared and the mild tone of his voice hardened. I didn't care. I explained I went through all the proper channels: Prefects, Head of House, teachers. I reminded him I even went to him and that he had discarded my worries, siding with the Marauders and attributing this whole fiasco on Severus' dour behaviour, laying all the blame on his skinny shoulders. He didn't appreciate my input. I hadn't planned on the year-long detention. I restrained the urge to scream and tear his beard out. I went back to class with clenched fists and teeth only to be accosted by my head of House to get another long-winded homily. By the time I managed to crash into my seat in Ancient Runes, I was furious. If nobody was going to lift a finger then I shall be prepared to do it myself. I knew enough curses to send hell to all of them. I would not go down without a fight. But as fate would have it, most of the student population had been cowered into shame and left us both to our own devices— no such luck concerning the Marauders however. Nothing new. Nothing I couldn't handle either since they only teased me about it. Bullying was for Severus only. He mentioned my outburst only once, asking what could have possessed me to challenge and invite the whole school into harassing me. To this day, I'm still surprised he didn't take it wrongly, felt slighted and stopped talking to me altogether.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer : I own nothing and make no money out of it. It all belongs to JKR.

A/N : Hello everyone ! I'm very sorry I hadn't posted in a very long while but real life had been quite overwhelming these last months. Thanks to Dlbn who beta-read this chapter and all my gratitude to you, who is reading this chapter.

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 **Chapter 10: Sixth year, May**

It certainly was a good indicator of the burgeoning amiability between us that he didn't shut me out completely after the Shrieking Shack incident. I had debated whether I should interfere. I was still torn over the question when it happened thus taking the matter off my hands. I must confess a feeling of guilt plagued me for weeks.

He had been hinting about it. Of course, he had noticed there was something fishy about the Marauders every full moon since he made it a point to always be aware of their whereabouts— if only to get out of their way. Oh, he was a very fine specimen from Slytherin and would throw a hex or two when he could get away with it. I should mention he was also trying to get them expelled— at any cost. If discovering one of their dirty secrets implied getting in their way and risking drawing their attention to him, so be it. The gleam in his eyes when he talked about it, whispered it in the most allusive and cryptic way, the Slytherin way— devious and dubious, made me uncomfortable. I could have given him all the ammunition he could ever wished for— from Remus condition to their Animagi form. Their prowling of the grounds under the watchful eye of the moon. The Marauders' map, James' invisibility cloak, their use of secret passageways to Hogsmeade. But I couldn't bring myself to it either.

My heart went to Severus and I couldn't condone the Gryffindors' behaviour. But on the other hand, Severus was spying on them, keeping tabs and following them without much interest in what would happen to him. What's more, I like to believe that transforming into Animagi was something we would have done for each other too, Harry, Ron and me. The way Sirius talked about it to us children, the way his face was suddenly lit with happiness— that is something I couldn't take from them willingly. If Severus had experienced it for himself, had known such close friendship, closer than the bond of blood, maybe he would have understood it. No, I couldn't bring myself to deliver him the weapons to the Marauders' downfall.

I had scruples concerning Severus however. I knew Sirius would lead him to Remus and very nearly get him killed. This is something I couldn't accept either. But I also knew James would save him. Not from the fear, the hate, the scars, the casual brush-off and disavowal from the Headmaster nor the ultimate humiliation of owing James a life-debt. If I prevented the event would it have far more reaching consequences than I could anticipate? How much should I intervene while not understanding how the events were entangled and interact together? But could I allow attempted murder? Didn't staying quiet amount to agreement?

I also had no idea when it happened. I doubted it already had from the way Severus talked about the Marauders' "regular suspicious behaviour". I'm afraid I've never given much thought to the question. It had never struck me as pertinent information before. It was of a past long gone, concerning people either dead or distant— in heart with my teacher, in distance with Harry's godfather. Why should I have burdened myself with such knowledge? Now, I seriously wished I had reconsidered. Not that Sirius would have talked about it. As much as he hated our Potion Master— and he had never been shy about proclaiming it, even spurning Harry on and entertaining his derogative attitude, I am still not sure he was particularly proud about this. I don't think he would have divulged any detail, not even any vague hint.

As it was, I couldn't prevent anything. Every full moon, I would look out to the grounds from the window in my dorm but I had no view of the Whomping Willow. I had tried to discourage Severus from pursuing the matter, arguing it could potentially be dangerous. I pleaded that if he was hurt and he had sneaked off after them without notifying anyone, nobody would look for him and help him if need be. Naturally he scoffed. As if anyone had ever looked out for him previously. I had pleaded my case but he wouldn't listen. I found out too late it had come to pass. When he didn't appear in class the morning following one of my vigil, my feet automatically took me to the Infirmary. I didn't ask, he never told. I didn't rub it in, he never admitted I had been right. I just stayed with him that day— class, exams and teachers be damned. I had brought half the library with me and we read in companionable silence until Madam Pomfrey declared him good to go. From then on, he stopped talking about the Marauders. I knew something was weighing on his mind but he had no wish to discuss it with me. The offer still stood and I made sure he knew it. He didn't shut me out. He didn't stop meeting me or working with me. He wasn't meaner or more laconic. But he was different. There was nothing I could do to soothe his soul. One day, maybe I would be able to comfort him. Right then, he was not accessible. I steadfastly remained at his side, not asking for anything, nor taking out any mark of friendship I had offered. He withdrew even more and immersed himself in the future Death-Eaters' circle, drawing what he needed from it. A deep well of sadness engulfed me as I bore witness of how his previously slow descent into this madness quickened. And I was entirely powerless.

It is strange how alike Severus and Harry are. Both would choke on the thought, but I'm well placed to notice the similarities. Both headstrong, with an enormous amount of bravery in store. Both mistreated at home and bereft of parental love. Both Half-Blood. Both insecure in their youth but powerful. Both excessively loyal. Both with a bad reputation and bullied if somewhat differently— because our Potion Teacher did harass Harry, not mentioning the Ministry and Rita Skeeter who dragged his name through the mud. Both shouldering responsibilities far greater than anyone. Both considering each death as a personal failure. Both will be responsible of someone's death when all would be said and done. Both closing off, dwelling on contingencies and brooding. Both unreachable and snapping at those who dared approach. Both acted at least once without taking other perspectives into account and reached an appalling decision with deadly consequences; the Dark Mark of Severus, the death of Sirius for Harry. Both scarred, physically and in their heart.

Severus didn't shut me out. He didn't invite me in either. But what disheartened me the most was the after-effects of Dumbledore's ill-conceived handling of the explosive situation. It hadn't been a mere prank. It was attempted murder. And as much as I agreed with the protection of Remus and his inherent right to magical education, there should have been consequences for Sirius' action. Some retribution. Some punishment even if the whole matter had been covered up. It would have given him a sense of justice. Incomplete and not quite fair but at least he would have been taken into consideration and his word would have been taken seriously. Instead, he had been forcefully asked to keep silent to protect the ones who very nearly killed him. That was a low blow. Why should he have turned to the Order? They never offered him more than shame and disrespect. Why should he expect more? The Death-Eaters saw to it that he was well-cared for. And despite their revolting principles, they had recognized Severus' worth. Because he was a damn good wizard and had he fought for Voldemort til the end, the Order would have perished much sooner. He was a pivotal chess piece and the fact Albus Dumbledore didn't perceive this still astonishes me.

I could do nothing but remain faithful and hope for the best. A best I knew was not going to be. It was depressing.

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A/N: Slytherin and future DE = Avery, Mulciber

Thanks for reading ! I hope you liked it.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer : I own nothing and make no money out of it. It all belongs to JKR.

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 **Chapter 11: Sixth year, Summer Time**

Nothing changed much after "the incident" and weeks still inexorably went by. Spring had blossomed, flowers had bloomed, the crisp fresh air that had lifted my spirits had warmed until it was the eve of summer, with the whirlwind of exams and a burning question: where was I going to crash for the summer? At the present, my situation was less than ideal. I had no home to go to and no family I could rely upon.

I thought of the Burrow. It was after all, the equivalent of my wizard home. But it was most likely not build yet. And if it were, I had no reason to be there. Godric Hollow wasn't built either. Grimmault place was still inhabited by the Black family and I had no wish whatsoever to find myself near any of them.

I had no close friend who could have invited me home for the holidays.

That left me with only three major alternatives : Hogwarts, camping or renting. Of course, I had brought my tent. You can't be too careful and it never hurts to be always prepared. But after the months spent with Harry and Ron, I didn't feel up to it. The mere thought of the memories that would surely assault me put a stop to the idea.

I could rent something. I had money. Enough to be able to pay for two whole months. Maybe not the Ritz but I could still afford a place of my own. Or what came closer to it. Whether in a Muggle or a Wizarding establishment was yet to be determined. However, I was officially 16 and still underage. I could also perform no magic if the Trace was still on me. I should find a way to determine if it was before leaving school.

I could stay at Hogwarts. It seemed by far the easiest and most convenient choice. I would be well provided for, use my wand as I saw fit, keep my savings and be safe from the growing sympathizers of Voldemort. I also would have free access to the library— as I intended to put my time to good use and research extensively. On the other hand, I would not be able to come and go as I wished— which in itself was already a major flaw of this solution. Most importantly, I hadn't been invited to stay. Since my outcry a few months ago, I didn't seem to be a pupil pet. This was hardly surprising but it definitely made the fine thread I was walking on even more tenuous. Headmaster Dumbledore must know about my situation and had yet to approach me about it. But there was still time and he must have thought keeping me at the end of my tether would punish me somehow for my impertinent behaviour. As if. There was no way I'd regret a single word. And he had no idea how much money I had. The grant he had offered me had been really helpful, I had to give him that. But somehow, if I were honest with myself, I didn't care much for being anymore indebted to them. So. It was settled then. I would rent something.

That first summer had been relatively uneventful. I used the remaining weeks before the exams to investigate the Trace and found that I couldn't possibly still have it since it broke off when I was seventeen, back then. The last weekend in Hogsmeade was certainly put to good use. When no warning from the Improper Use of Magic Office came in my name, I felt confident I could use Magic as an adult. I was after all about nineteen— give or take. I had flatly refused the Headmaster's offer to stay at Hogwarts, when he had finally condescended to it. Oh, I had learnt my lesson well. It was best dealing with diplomacy than blunt honesty especially when not in a position of power. It had been a tricky meeting, explaining I had no problem living without Magic for two whole months and without any relative able to support me.

It had been unexpectedly a liberating experience. I had been concerned somehow about the loneliness, afraid it would bring up too many memories I wasn't sure I would be able to face. But in truth, I had felt relieved. I could live as I wished. No mask to wear, no need to watch my words, no one trying to sway my mind, no Charms to cast on my bed. I could cry myself to sleep or toss for hours and none but the stars would be the wiser. I suddenly experienced what it was like to leave home to become an independent, self-sufficient adult. It felt nice.

I had chosen a Wizard establishment in a small community— much cheaper and far more anonymous. I could Apparate, I had no need to be close to London. I made many trips to the library in the capital city. I had even obtained an authorisation to search the equivalent of the National Archives.

First and foremost, I continued to compile my memories. After Harry and Ron's death, I had devised a spell that enabled me to copy my memories. I needed to make sure I lost none of them but the process was long and often brought tears as I sat remembering them. The loss seemed as unbearable as the first day I woke up with the knowledge they had died. I used the tranquillity of the summer time to get on with it. On a whim, I started another set about Severus.

I also extensively researched the Dark Arts. I would have no access to the Sword nor the Basilik's fang which meant I would have to destroy the Horcruxes the hard way— with hexes, curses and counter-spells. Seventh year curriculum was certainly not suitable. It was but child play.

On the light side, I needed some material on antivenom and strong healing potions. I could not base all my plans and hopes on the antidote St Mungo's would create for Ron's father decades from now — it could not happen, be used fully or I could never manage to get a hold of it. So I researched Ars Alchemica and all other Potions studies I could find as well as Muggle chemistry and pharmaceuticals. I read everything I could find on the most dangerous snakes in the worlds, got a meeting with a Muggle snake-expert under false pretences and delved into the subject of mythical and magical ones. I decided on a brewing planning back at school and a place to experiment. The Room of Requirement would have to be good enough for several reasons. First, I couldn't use Moaning Myrtle's bathroom nor any other disused classroom. Second, the lab was off, I wasn't part of the Slug-club. Last, I wasn't in the hierarchy's— teachers and Prefects alike— good books and couldn't afford any misstep. Yes, the Room of Requirement will have to be adequate.

Between those researches, I also crammed an overview of the Pureblood families' genealogy, an understanding of the Goblin's way of managing business, learned the counter-spell for the enlargement curse on the Lestrange's vault and I got appraised of the whereabouts of the few Death-Eaters I knew about and would encounter in the next decade.

Two months were too short a time. I did, however, found the time to owl Severus and arrange a few meetings. It was hard work to fool him into believing I could live alone without any use of Magic. I told him I lived as a Muggle because my parents had seen fit to teach me these ways so that I could use Muggle money, clothes and means of transportation without batting an eye. It was true in a sense. The only real lie was that I could use Magic every single day without any retribution. In a few weeks, the Trace would officially be lifted from me anyway and I would have no need to pretend anymore. It would be a relief.

Severus being a Half-Blood, he had no difficulty leaving home for a few hours and catch a bus to the next town. He didn't seem overjoyed but when did he really? As long as he accepted the idea, it meant he was happy to see me. Or as happy as he knew how to be— which wasn't much. Merlin, but he did need to loosen up a bit. Even I, after all the ordeals, still managed to laugh and smile and appreciate small joys. The warmth of the sun on my face, the ripple of a breeze wafting in my hair, hearing a favourite tune, having sand glide through my fingers, smelling the salty air of the sea, listening to the bending grass and rustling leaves under the wind. Watching lightning as it split apart the night sky, being lulled to sleep by the rhythmic sound of raindrops on the roof. The smell of cut grass. The face of a friend. The noise of a leaf that turns in a book. A hot bath. A juicy fruit.

He seemed oblivious of it all, as if all the joys, all the happiness, all that made life easier and brighter had been sucked for him. As if he was always surrounded by a dark cloud of depression or had a Dementor hovering above his head. I had hoped to see him more relaxed when not surrounded by antagonistic classmates. But no. He was still the same overstrung, harsh person. I was sure that deeply buried was hidden a more endearing part of him. He was a scholar, an extremely powerful wizard and loyal to a fault. Such behaviour was not representative of a Death-Eater like a Malfoy or a Goyle senior was. There had to be a well of care and absolute devotion somewhere. I suspected him to be a passionate man, driven and dedicated. Oh, he had his faults—many of them. And his obsession with Lily was disturbing to say the least. It cannot be a sign of normal and acceptable relational abilities. And yet, despite his social defects, in his heart of heart laid someone capable of undying faithfulness and consideration. Yes, he indeed had a passionate nature. And that drew me to him irresistibly. There was something about his downfall, about his desperate fight, about his pride, his bravery, his cunning, his wit and survival capacities, about the walking oxymoron he posed. He fascinated me. I wanted to understand him. I wanted to support him. I wanted to give the push he had lacked to get hold of a better life, of better circumstances. It wasn't pity. It wasn't basic compassion, even if I've never been short of any. It wasn't love either. I've loved Ron. I knew what it felt like. It wasn't love. But it was something. Something significant and compelling. Something that had to be embraced. Something I couldn't and wouldn't fight. So I gave in. I complied. I surrendered. And in turn, I devoted myself completely to this man, willingly. There was no denying it. There was no avoiding it. I was too far gone, too entranced, too entangled. I needed to do this.

This intensity I didn't understand kept me awake more than once. I've never taken well to things I cannot explain. My mind has always been such a bustle, never really quiet, always working. I couldn't fathom that the answers I was seeking were still eluding me. I couldn't conceive I'd be so discombobulated over him, over my feelings, over the situation at hands. I came with a very simple mission. I was stranded with a jumble of threads to unwind far too substantial. I was at a loss and I didn't like it one bit.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer : I own nothing and make no money out of it. It all belongs to JKR.

* * *

 _ **Chapter 12:** Seventh Year, November_

On the first of September, I stood undecided on platform 9 and 3/4. I had never done my seventh year; this was at least one thing I wouldn't have to pretend. I stood there, with my trolley by my side and watched everyone get excited about the upcoming year, from the youngest ones fretting around their parents to the oldest, already aboard and chatting animatedly of their holidays, glad to be reunited again. I didn't feel this giddy anticipation. It's not that I wasn't happy to come back. I did feel a modicum of joy to spend another year at school. But something in the busy crowd made me uncomfortable. Too many people, too many risks. Too many families, too many friends and I was all alone. Too many laughter and teary goodbyes while I settled for memories. Above them all, the sea of Weasley flaming red engulfing me in a last, all-encompassing, loving hug.

My ride back to Hogwarts was quiet to say the least. I couldn't bear any other than Severus and he elected to stay with Avery and Mulciber to set the tone for the whole year. It was one way, I suppose, to show his hand. Splendid. With a sneer plastered onto my face, I found an empty compartment and looked out of the window. It was strange, I reflected, how quickly my composed and relaxed stance morphed into a displeased and defensive one. Much quicker than the other way around. Well, if it couldn't be avoided.

Nothing changed much, not that it ever did. Life went on, routine setting the rhythm. Class, Great Hall, Dormitories, Quidditch matches, even the Hogsmeade weekends started again. There was a sense of focus however that was exclusively found in seventh year students with the looming NEWTs forever present in their mind from the very first month into school.

Lily began to date James in October. The time Severus spent with Avery, Mulciber and a few others known Death-Eaters in my own timeline increased exponentially from that day. I couldn't reach him. He sneered, lashed out and was generally unpleasant even more. He was every bit the bastard Harry hated. Oh, not to me directly. He did talk more snappily and was more abrupt in his demeanour but he wasn't mean per se. There were matters unquestionably forbidden to bring up. Others that irremediably led to heated arguments where we would both pull a long face for days on end before we found the way to mend things. We were still the recipient of weird and startled looks in school— it had abated somehow compared to the previous year since our amiability wasn't new anymore, neither of us was popular for different reasons and we spent less time together since most of his was devoted to his fellow Slytherins. Voldemort's propaganda had a good footing there and Severus had swallowed it hook, line and sinker. They were recruiting him fast and well. I don't know what they fed him but he definitely loved every bit of it. His attitude changed, his posture. I began to recognize his voice, the deep dangerous velvet he had always manipulated at will. His eyes darkened— it seems cliché but they turned from dark chocolate to obsidian. The Darkness he had embraced was glaringly obvious to me. I confess a morbid fascination to it. Mostly I was afraid. Not that he would hurt me. But this course he was on, this nasty gleam that had appeared, this violent streak that he did his best to control and hide, this exacerbated vindictiveness, the words he used and the way he spoke, it was inherently wrong. He was oblivious and far too hateful. Only his goals, his pride kept him going, in the wrong direction and with the wrong means. Not mentioning his need to pay Sirius back.

Sirius. There was a huge problem. A tremendously substantial one. James wasn't as much a threat as he used to because he spent most of his free time dating Lily. Remus and Wormtail having always tagged along were no immediate concerns either. But Sirius was. Their mutual hatred kept them going one after the other. Severus' spells were darker by the week while Sirius was always picking up on him, in class, in the corridors, on the grounds, during meals. Not a day went by without an altercation of sort— spiteful words, insult, backing one in a corner or getting the other in detention, hex. It seems all their energy, all their free time was spent trying to find new creative ways to get the other humiliated or hurt. It worried me considerably. I had to do something and only one option came to mind.

I debated over it. Like any plan, it had its flaws.

Severus would resent me for it as he would feel insulted and slighted. I knew he would because I have no intention of letting him in onto my idea. He would rat me out just to get under Sirius' skin. Sirius would not be unscathed. Cornering an accomplished wizard, threatening him and ripping him a new one was generally not a safe course of action.

Did I wish to be that person? Did I wish to use this kind of methods, deception, using people only to discard them, blackmail? It was dishonest— at best. It was a very low blow. Truth was, I was more bothered with Severus giving me the cold shoulder than Sirius bearing a rightful grudge. Apparently, Severus and his Slytherin ways had rubbed on me. I must have had a strong streak of slyness in me because in the last two years and a half, I hadn't done much more than cheating and lying to achieve my goals to be honest.

I lost sleep and appetite pondering this matter. Sirius had always been moderately nice to me. Maybe he really liked me. Most probably he was only trying to get to Severus through me. But I was still squeamish over this. It was not how my parents raised me. It was at odds with my morals and usual code of conduct. There was nothing noble about this, nothing Gryffindor. It wasn't something I would have done as a part of the Golden Trio. It wouldn't have even crossed my mind.

But Sirius had friends. He had had six good years at school. It would soon be brought to an end, too true. But war will destroy all our lives. And he had had no retribution for his "prank" the previous year. And Severus was hurting. And it annoyed and angered me. Well, some part of me had already decided apparently.

On impulse, I forewarned Severus a few days later. I only told him enough for him to understand I wasn't turning to the Marauders like Lily did. I would not be caught making the same mistake. A few words whispered in Potions to let him know I had something important to do and that he wouldn't like the way I was going about it. A few words in Arithmancy to quote " quibuscumque viis". If he wasn't familiar with Latin, he was astute enough to research it.

Then I went to Sirius. He had been flirting with me before the holidays. He was a Don-Juan and if I played it well, he would buy my act. It still amazes me how Lavender and Parvati's insufferable girlish ways had been imprinted into my memory. How easily I could become such a floozy. Disturbing. But I kept on. Soon enough, we seemed on the verge of dating. Severus threw me a few dirty looks in class at first then blatantly refused to utter more than necessary words and avoided me the rest of the time. It was to be expected. It made Sirius even more enthusiastic. He accompanied me a few times to Hogsmeade, walked me to the lake, tried to get me to Quidditch practice, this sort of things. He was fun, I had to give him that. It wasn't difficult to understand why Lily had abandoned Severus. It was an unburdened way of living. I have no doubt she fleetingly worried for him. She most certainly was troubled about the impending war. But it was easy to be with the Marauders. No Darkness, no Dark Arts, no troubling allure. They were Gryffindors. Gryffindors are easy to manoeuvre, so open, so loud, so explicit. There is no real deceit in this house. Almost everything could be taken at face value. It was boring, yes, but refreshing in its simplicity. When he was ripe for the taking, when I had finally managed to manipulate him to my liking, I was ready.

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A/N : " quibuscumque viis" = by whatever means possible


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer : still not mine. It still all belongs to JKR.

* * *

 **Chapter 13 : _Seventh Year, December_**

It had been a fine Saturday. The full moon was a few days ahead and I knew he would already be thinking about it. I had allowed him more leeway and hinted it would be nice to be really dating rather than flirting. He was not surprised when I asked if he knew any private place where we wouldn't be disturbed. I don't want to know what he imagined. I let him kiss me. And damn, but he knew what he was doing. Taking my arms off his neck and subtly moving him towards the wall behind him, I decided on honesty. It is never too late.

"Oh my, you are a good kisser, did you know?" I asked, my lips still tingling, swollen and red. He barked a laugh. A small part of me recoiled from my intentions and went to Sirius. This was not something I would ever be proud of.

"You're not bad yourself," he answered jokingly. I smiled.

"As nice as this is," I said after a few moments and kissed him deeply again, pushing him until his back touched the wall, my hands roaming onto his shoulders and torso, "we both know you're only trying to taunt and goad Severus."

"Do you have to talk about Snivellus now?" He groaned and I rubbed slightly against him as I stood on tiptoes.

I felt his body react to the touch. Good.

"Yes, I do," I began and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Because, even if you don't, I do like him— Padfoot."

He stopped kissing me back, stiffened and gripped my arms.

"Padfoot? What does that mean Hermione?"

Those Gryffindors really took me for a fool. First Lily, now Sirius. Did they never learn? I spent all my time with a Slytherin for crying out loud.

"Oh, I think you do." I kissed him again, more brusquely. He wasn't responsive at all. "James won. He secured Lily's affection. You won. He now owns a life-debt to your best friend all thanks to your well-placed hints concerning the Whomping Willow. When will you stop?"

"He talked to you about this? He was forbidden to."

I saw the wheels turning in his head. If he had babbled then Sirius had good grounds on which to get him expelled. This would never stop. I had naively hoped it would be enough. I had a contingency plan, naturally. But I didn't like it one bit. Especially now that I've come to appreciate Sirius better.

"I am sorry," I said, dropping a few chaste kisses. "I've come to like you better than I thought and you have always been nice to me." He looked surprised by my admission. "Despite appearances, I can give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar. And you can be charming."

"I don't like the way this discussion is going."

"As well you shouldn't." I paused, for dramatic effects. "You did me no wrong. But I cannot excuse your persistent harassment of Severus. And I want it to stop."

"Did he send you? Not even brave enough to face me? You tell him to shove it Hermione. I'm getting out of here and don't expect me to greet you tomorrow."

I stood my ground. He would leave this classroom when I was done with him. He was cornered and couldn't move past without manhandling me. I sneered slightly.

"Surely you have noticed Severus has not talked to me since we began to see each other? Did I strike you as someone who would agree to be used as a tart?" He opened his mouth to retort but I cut him short. "Think hard before you answer Sirius. I might get offended."

"No," he finally conceded.

"Too right you are. I am far too pig-headed and inimical. I had assumed Lily would have shared with you our discussion last year. Apparently not and that's why you misunderstood me earlier. I am not asking."

"I see no reason to."

"Ah, Padfoot, I've known many of your secrets. I've kept them to myself, naively thinking that once you almost managed to kill him, your conscience will kick in. Because I understand the nobility of becoming an unregistered Animagi to support a friend. But have no doubt that I also know of Prongs and Wormtail. I knew about Moony's furry little problem well before Severus did. I knew about the Shrieking Shack. Is that reason enough?"

He had blanched. Yes, I was blackmailing him. Yes, I was menacing his closest friends. Yes, I did it to help a Death-Eater— or as good as one.

"Are you threatening me?"

"You asked for a reason to stop bullying him. I gave you four. Is that sufficient?"

"You, bitch!" He snarled at me.

I deserved it.

"Is that sufficient?" I repeated, all dignity and quiet indifference.

"You're as bad as he is."

"I resent this. You helped modelled him that way. Pushed him further onto this path. You know nothing of me. You don't know me. You don't know who I am, what I've survived, who I used to be and who my friends were. What gives you the right to judge and condemn me so? You know loyalty. You transform each month into a giant big black dog out of loyalty. I defied death out of loyalty. And here I am, thrown into your petty arguments and prejudiced hatred. Because your family is a good-for-nothing Pureblood fanatic, everyone that is not Gryffindor and all virtue is inherently wrong? What about your own streak of cruelty Sirius? Did you ponder on it? How is being poor, bookish and distrustful a criminal offense? How does that invite you to bully and mistreat another? Tell me Sirius because I do not understand!"

"You know nothing of what is happening here and you turn a blind eye to it. Because you've had a hard time before, you assume we are all simpletons. You are wrong and you refuse to see it. That doesn't allow you to threaten my friends."

"But it allows you to threaten Severus. I may not see eye to eye with him on many crucial points. I may have the same point of view as you in this war. I may want to die most of the time rather than live now. But there is one thing I can do. I can spare him this year the humiliation you had him endure for six years. If it means sticking my neck out for someone who will probably join a band of bigoted raving lunatics and murderers, so be it. But I will not partake in an existing and systematic persecution. If it means abjuring some of my principles and relying upon abject means like blackmail— I'm ready."

He looked at me strangely. I spoke the truth. I had nothing to hide from him if I wanted him to comply. I just lost one of the few persons that had actually come to like me somehow. Inside, something broke and a heavy sigh heaved. One more to add to the growing list of lost ones.

"I don't trust you."

"Nor should you. But I have one word. I said I wouldn't stop seeing Severus and I didn't. If I say I will keep your secrets, I will. As I have until now."

"You have no proof to back your claim."

Oh, that was how he wanted to play it?

"I swear, Sirius, I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good. And until mischief's managed, I will not let the matter drop."

His pupils dilated. Ah, afraid now, was he? Desperately wanting to understand how I got into their secrets? I smirked. He had no choice but to agree.

"You—" He began, but words failed him.

"Is that sufficient incentive?" An imperceptible, involuntary nod. I could let him go now. "No hard feelings Sirius, this was not personal. Not between you and I at least." He stared at me and I used the opportunity to kiss his lips one last time, taking advantage of his stunned state. "And you are a damn good kisser. Shame we won't do this again." I added before turning on my heels and leaving him slumped against the wall.

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A/N : I know, she's not being very nice. And that's not Gyffindor at all. And yet, I believe she would have done it anyway.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer : not mine. It's JKR's work.

* * *

 **Chapter 14 : _Seventh Year, January_**

Sirius stopped bothering Severus. I kept my word and never whispered any of their secrets. I even managed to convince Severus to drop the matter and pretend Sirius didn't exist after many arguments. He had noticed the sequence of events. He was no fool my Slytherin and connected the dots easily. He never expressed any displeasure about my actions nor any thanks. I didn't expect him to either. Many aspects of our relation were based on not addressing issues that would stir up a hornet's nest, carry to consequences, stormy debates or even quarrels in which we would both lose our temper and spit mean, hurtful words.

Strangely enough, Sirius didn't seem to bear me as huge a grudge as I expected. I admit it warmed my heart. There was more to him than meets the eye. In him, I recognized a possibility, the eventuality of how different these two years in Hogwarts would have been had I chosen to fit in rather than go the hard way and try to befriend Severus.

"Hey, Hermione!" A voice ranged out in the corridor.

Too late to steer away into another corridor. There was no avoiding this. I stopped and turned around, a shield spell half formed in my mind, and thoughts rearranging themselves into battle mode. Troubling how quickly I could revert back to this.

"What did you do to our Sirius? He's all gloomy," James exclaimed jokingly. "Broke his heart, did you?"

Oh, so Sirius hadn't divulged our accord? I relaxed and giggled.

"Did I? Don't worry, I'm sure there are many girls all too willing to help him recover." I smiled. _Nicer girls_ , I amended in the confines of my mind.

It seemed to satisfy them. Really, how much denser could these wizards be? I have met two of them, later, much later, after war separated them and took away their innocence. I knew them as harder men. Less gullible too. It was sad how truly different they will become. Made me want to weep. They bid me farewell and were gone. Lily on the other hand was a whole different ballgame. She had come to me last year and we hadn't parted as friends. As a consequence, she had an inkling of the lengths I was willing to go to. She had not been fooled. And she sought me out again. I found her casually waiting for me after class one day. She was always so polite. Difficult to refuse her something. We went for a walk on the grounds, as it was a fine winter afternoon and staying in the library would be more of a bother, despite the warmth it granted.

"Sirius talked to me last week. He was troubled over you."

"Yes, I suppose he was. I hadn't been very considerate of him."

"You've been cruel." She rectified.

I lifted an eyebrow. And Sirius had never been?

"I could have done much worse, Lily."

"So I've guessed."

I smirked. Her disapproving tone didn't bother me. I felt like a cat about to pounce on an unsuspecting mouse. I definitely was getting meaner.

"He really liked you, you know." Oh? No, I didn't know. "You mercilessly trampled on his feelings. For someone who is all high-and-mighty, always snubbing others and calling them disrespectful that was especially appalling."

I have to admit it was well-deserved. Did I have regrets? No. Did I apologize? Fat chance in hell.

"Under any other circumstances, I believe I would have grown to be someone like you."

She frowned and I felt compelled to explain.

"I used to be kind and sympathetic. I used to uphold the Gryffindor values above all others. I used to be a stickler for principles. I used to put morals over means. I used to be like you. And they all died because I was too squeamish to do what needed to be done." She looked at me with something akin to pity. It made my hackles rise. "I don't need your pity, Lily." I spat. "I just want you to understand that we can't all afford the luxury of unyielding morals." I looked away, keeping my temper in check. We were explosive together and couldn't seem to talk without arguing. "However," I conceded, "I had no intention of trampling on Sirius' feelings. I hadn't realized they were real or I would have gone about it another way."

"I'm sure he'll feel better knowing this."

"Don't get me wrong, Lily. While I despise the means I used, I would do it again without batting an eye." There was an uncomfortable pause as she digested my words. "I assume Sirius told you of our— understanding."

"Understanding?" She wondered. "No, he wasn't specific. Just downhearted."

"So, you don't know half of it."

 _And still sought me out to blame me._

"From what I understood, you've chosen Severus over Sirius and let him down the hard way to get revenge."

I sighed.

"Well. You assumed wrongly. It is not a matter of who I've chosen. I believe I've always made my intentions crystal clear on this."

"Yet you dated Sirius."

"Did I? Did you see us holding hands or kiss? Did you see me lounging around you? We were flirting, I can't deny it. But dating? No." She seemed to ponder my words and a few emotions crossed her face fleetingly. When she suddenly looked sad, I knew she had accepted my words as true. "I am guilty of toying with Sirius though. I really did use his behaviour to further my own agenda. However, I honestly believed he only wanted to irk Severus by trying to seduce me."

"Sirius wouldn't do something like this."

I scoffed. "Of course, he would. They hate each other with a ferocity I've never seen."

"I can't argue with you on this."

"You know where I stand concerning Severus. I haven't changed my mind since last year."

"Don't you see it is not going to end well?"

"Of course, I do. I am not blind. I know it is too late to alter the path Severus has chosen. But I refuse to abandon him. I maintain there's good in him."

"You're aware you're riding for a fall, are you?"

"It is gonna be a bumpy ride, I'll give you that." I smirked. "I'm not completely freaked out yet. Listen, Lily. I am not arrogant enough to believe I will succeed where you failed. Severus is lost to us for now. It doesn't entail that I suddenly approve the bullying."

"Would you tell me what you did exactly?"

"So nicely asked— naturally. I flirted with Sirius. And when I considered he would agree to go somewhere absolutely private and impervious to eavesdroppers, I blackmailed him into stopping."

She blinked.

"You blackmailed him?" She repeated.

"I did."

"What with?"

"I promised to keep silent. Surely you do not expect me to break my word, do you?"

"But I won't tell. And I'm dating James!"

"I swore. I have many flaws, but breaking promises isn't one of them. This is between Sirius and me. He upholds his part of our bargain— under duress I admit, and I uphold mine. With all my heart. You can however put his troubles to rest. I had no idea I would truly break his heart." I paused. "It had nothing to do with revenge. Just a means to an end."

We walked in companionable silence, quite a feat considering we usually bickered. Something was bothering her. She was astute that one, and smart too. She would do the maths and find the weak spots. And she would not be shy about asking. She wasn't one to wring her hands anxiously, I noticed. It was subtler; her annoyed flick of hair would be more frequent, her frown more pronounced, she would rub her thumb against her forefinger and stare determinedly ahead. She seemed to have made up her mind.

"Sirius hinted you do not share Severus' view on Magic."

"He doesn't believe in it either. They only took advantage of his hateful, vindictive and insecure side. I can't picture him as someone who would believe the woman he loves doesn't deserve Magic and should be killed. Painfully."

"Hermione—" She began but her words died down.

"There is no accusation Lily, nor any justification for his actions. I just state facts. I have no doubt he will join them. I have no doubt he will come to regret it quickly afterwards."

"Do you love him?"

"Romantically you mean? No. Why would you assume so?"

"How can you accept this? Why do you support him if you don't share his point of view?"

"Are you worrying about me— or about him?"

She looked away, averted her eyes from me. Given time and opportunity, I might have come to like her. But her eyes, they haunted me. I understand now why Severus couldn't stand Harry's gaze. And to see for six years reflected in them the same defiance, hurt and anger that hers most certainly held when he had insulted her— that must have been the ultimate penance.

"I will die before I turn Death-Eater, Lily. But I can't forsake him. I understand him somehow because I can see a distorted mirror image of myself. We are both bookish and insecure. Smart to the point of arrogance. Hung-up with poor social abilities. Not popular and most certainly not attractive. But proud, so proud. I know what deliberate cruelty feels— I have been the recipient of it too. This Darkness he craves, this Darkness that swallowed him whole– body, mind and soul, it finds an echo in me. I could have been like him if I hadn't had the friends I had once. And now that they're gone, I can't even deny who I've become."

I stifled a laugh as I imagined Harry and Ron's horrified gaze. Rebuking the Marauders, getting into arguments with his mother, snubbing Remus and ditching Sirius. Harry would choke on this alone. Ron would tear me apart for being with Severus. He couldn't stand it when I defended our Potions Teacher. He'd have a fit if he knew I was on friendly terms with him and that I had challenged the whole castle for it. No, they wouldn't be very happy with me if they saw me now.

"I don't think they would be happy with me. Maybe they can see me from where they are. If so, they certainly turned so much in their graves they must have drilled a hole all the way through China."

It brought a smile to my lips.

"You were lucky to have them."

"Yes. I was. And I miss them terribly. Every hour of every day."

I felt tears prickle my eyes and abruptly turn my head away from her, offering my face to the frigid winter air. I would not cry. Unfortunately, she was perceptive.

"Are you ok?"

It was perfectly obvious I wasn't. But I was not about to admit it to her.

"Yes," I answered, teeth gritted.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Did she expect me to pour out my heart to her because we've managed to talk for an hour without getting angry and resentful? Not gonna happen anytime soon. I repressed the urge to rip her apart.

"I can't. Nor am I willing to," I answered very stiffly.

"Sometimes, I too see Severus in you. You have the same defensiveness, the same unwavering obstinacy."

"You sound worried for him."

"We used to be close. I miss that friend."

There was nothing to add. Mourning a friend is never easy, be it the irreversible physical death or a metaphorical one. I find it ironically sad that her death would bring Severus to reconsider his loyalty, but that she should never witness the re-emergence of her childhood friend and so, die thinking he would forever be a Death-Eater. Personally, I will see my friends again, but will never be allowed to talk to them again. No need to wallow into self-pity but I'm quite sure I'll be the one having the worse time. Yet I'll be alive and so will be Harry and Ron. That is priceless. We strolled mutely back towards the castle and upon the entrance doors, she spoke again.

"I'll tell Sirius."

"Please do. I wish him no harm nor ever did."

"Could you—" she began but stopped and reconsidered. "Never mind. Take care Hermione."

"I promise you Lily. One day, you'll be proud of him."

I smiled softly. I didn't expect to talk to her again. We weren't friends and school would soon be over. After that, we should never have any reason to come into contact again. It felt like an adieu. She too seemed to consider it so. She didn't answer, just nodded, once, grimly, looked at me in the eyes then turned and strode away.

* * *

A/N : I'm sure Lily misses Severus. Not as he has become but as the friend he used to be. And I'm sure that sometimes, she would worry. And I'm sure Hermione and Lily would have butted heads. They are both strong-minded and don't have quite the same outlook on people. It would have made for interesting dinners.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer : not mine. It's JKR's work.

A/N : My beta can't help me anymore so chapters from now on won't be "proof-read." I hope there aren't too many typos and mistakes. I've re-read them myself but you know how it works. There are always things that get past.

* * *

 **Chapter 15 : Seventh year, May**

This year had been depressing. The NEWTS were fast approaching now and soon, nothing would be left of school time. I often sat in the library, absent-mindedly munching on a sugar quill and pondering what my life had become. How tragically it changed and whether I had been right in the pursuit of our goal. Should I have really Travelled? Or should I have moved abroad to start again? Should I have forsaken Magic and become a Muggle? I knew I could never. But the thought nagged at me, keeping me awake at night or my mind far away with an open unread book on my desk. What path had I chosen? Severus— he kept me awake at night too. I was worried for him. I was sad too and alone. As alone as when I first arrived. I could have blended in, could have made friends and start a nice, unburdened, easy life anew with just their memory occasionally clouding my vision with tears. But no. I had befriended Severus, with difficulty I might add and renounced other friendships in the process. To what end? What good had it caused? And my mind would circle continuously, skimming over what ifs and possible outcomes.

My dorm-mates were nice enough and over these last two years, we had talked many times, often until late into the night. We would sit together when we shared class. Someone always made room for me at the dinner table and I never felt singled out.

But I hadn't real friends apart from Severus. And he had elected to spend most of his time with Avery and Mulciber. He worked less with me, closed himself off, favoured the Slytherin common room over the library. He had been invited over small holidays to the Malfoys' home and came back changed. Oh, minute changes. Changes only Slytherins and I were able to see. They weren't changes for the better. He was even more sullen, his anger exacerbated. I had a glimpse of his mastery of spells. It left me speechless. So nasty, so dark, so borderline. He didn't seem to notice nor to care. Hate had consumed him and I was frightened to see him become so vile. Only revenge seemed to matter to him. Revenge and making a name for himself. But what kind of name was that? How could he fool himself so much? How much more in denial was he going to be before I could shake some sense into him?

Over the months, we had some career advice and in April had been held a sort of demonstration of the different professions we could apply to. Depending on our NEWTS results obviously. Severus had chosen Potions and had come home from a visit to the Malfoys with an apprenticeship under a Potion-Master. The smile on his face when he told me about it sent chills down my spine. He was over the moon and while I could be happy for him to get into the line of work he favoured, knowing his Master belonged to Voldemort's circle was bloodcurdling. I clenched my teeth and smiled to him. He was paranoid enough.

For my part, I had trouble deciding. I had always thought I would go into law. My upbringing and values had lead me to create S.P.E.W. and advocate the rights of all Magical creature. I had wanted to help better this world, so prejudiced and old-fashioned. But it didn't feel right. This was what Hermione Granger wanted to do with her life. And maybe I would get to do it, much later in life. But for now, I didn't feel comfortable in this direction. What's more, I would work for the Ministry and considering my association with Severus, I preferred they did not delve too much into my personal life. We would both be at risk. I could not be seen all cosy with a Death-Eater and he shouldn't be connected to me. What would happen to him if Voldemort discovered he had been friends with the best friend of The-Boy-Who-Lived, a Mudblood furthermore, for two decades? How well will that go? No, all the more reason not to work for the Ministry. It has ears and eyes after all.

I loved Arithmancy and would be happy researching the field. But this was war and it rapidly became apparent I should choose wisely and with much practicality. My ultimate goal was the defeat of Voldemort and I adamantly refused to join the Order. They wouldn't trust me anyway because of Severus. They would always fear I was only spying on them to his benefit. And I had no wish to join them anyway. Arithmancy will have to wait a few decades. Hopefully wizards have a longer life-span.

I would need skills in the Darks Arts to destroy Horcruxes and help Harry, Ron and I on our hide-and-seek sick game with Voldemort. I would need healing Charms to nurse Severus back to life during the years to come. I might even find a way to do something about his Mark. It was settled then. I would go into the study of the Dark Arts and become a curse-breaker. Yes, that was tempting. Very much so.

The wand I acquired the previous year would be perfect for it too as it reflected the changes I had undergone. It had the same core of dragon heartstring as my first wand. But while I had hoped to get a new vine wood wand, it reacted with less enthusiasm than when I was eleven and I sadly turned to other wands. Yew and Acacia answered me well enough but Blackthorn felt right. It was a strange wand, one I would never have picked myself but once in my hand, I felt comforted. It emitted bright sparks and I swear I heard a slow rumble. There was something in its weight, in how it fitted my hand that soothed me. I felt endowed with a unique power that even my first wand hadn't manage to induce. It was a darker wood than vine and less elaborate, with a rough rustic feel that complemented my feelings quite well. I felt harsh to the edges, like this wand did in my hand. It resembled a miniature shillelagh, a traditionally Irish walking stick. It wasn't perfectly straight, its handle swirled. Overall it was a lovely warm light colour sprinkled with dark almost black patches. The handle was especially beautiful. I fell in love with this wand. Ollivander cautioned me about it, explaining it would need some bonding before revealing its full potential but that it was usually difficult to do so. He also told me blackthorn wands favoured warriors and that I would do extremely well in such a field. Yes, going into curse-breaking training would go well with this wand. I often even referred to it with a she pronoun. My wand had become an extension of me but one that resembled me more, in all the paradox and ambiguities I felt and harboured. All the secrets and feelings, all the hardships and insecurities. I felt at ease with her and she responded well, especially in Charms and DADA. We would do well together, I had no doubt about this.

I sent an application form. I wasn't that much interested into the travelling and digging but I would have at least two years of training before I had to leave which would be about the end of the first war against Voldemort. I could travel later while Severus teaches in the safety of Hogwarts. Then I could come back and ask for a desk job after a few years. Getting into Gringotts to steal from Bellatrix Lestrange would be no mean feat. If I was at least into the bank, I might have an inkling of their operating.

In two months at most, my fate would be sealed. A week after my Newts results, an answer from the training program would arrive. And the show would be on.

* * *

A/N : I know it's been a while and this chapter is not much to get on but I should be able to update quickly. Cheers and thank you for reading!


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer : not mine. It's JKR's work.

A/N : They are growing and making difficult choices in this chapter. I sure hope you will like it. I certainly took pleasure writing it.

* * *

 **Chapter 16 : August 1978 - part 1**

I had had some concerns about the after-Hogwarts. But I found I quite enjoyed my life. I had found myself a nice cosy flat that I could afford with the side job I did. It was large enough, with a separate bedroom. Sparsely furnished but I bought a heavy, fluffy, thick carpet in which I absolutely loved curling my toes when I was tired. I had a large couch and a small fireplace. All in earth colours and hues: green, sand, cream, soft brown. The necessities in a kitchen because I do like to cook. A few trinkets from my first life. A plant in a corner. A bookcase lining a whole wall in the sitting-room with still a lot of empty space since I hadn't been able to bring all my books. I had forsaken the TV, no need to shout my Muggle parentage in such a tense time. Yes, all in all, I liked my flat.

Severus had elected to move to his parents' home. I had always assumed they had died prior to his sixth year, partly because he always stayed at Hogwarts and partly because he had never talked about it. But during last summer, he hadn't mentioned spending the time alone either. I really didn't know nor did I dare ask. He was consumed by his apprenticeship now and I saw very little of him. We met often but for a very short time and he confided little. I am not sure how much he had been allowed to reveal. But he was generally quite smitten with his training. The way his eyes alight, his hands would come to life and the way he would talk more animatedly, he felt good. Such a shame his master was a Death-Eater or at least, a sympathizer. Every time I saw him, he was lured farther into their propaganda, drawn into Muggle-hating, revelling into the praise they no doubt fed him and basking into a contented well-earned place into their circle. Disgusting. I expected his initiation anytime now and we would often quarrel about his dispositions. It was I suppose the main reason why we spent so little time together. We often parted ways angry at the other, feeling misunderstood, underrated and as if the other hadn't even listened. We would bicker and still find ourselves into the same predicament the following week. Neither ever stood the other up however so when I received a note from him telling me he wouldn't meet me as expected because he had an unexpected but important meeting that night I knew my worst fears had come to pass. I grabbed my cloak and Apparated near his house. I checked the area and his home but my spell came back with nothing threatening. I pounded on his door before letting myself in. He had allowed me to come in whenever I wished after all.

"Severus!" I yelled. "Where are you?" I called as I searched his home. Kitchen, sitting-room. Went upstairs. Guest room. I hesitated in front of the bathroom door, slightly ajar. No-one. I knocked on his bedroom door— I've never been allowed there and wasn't sure I ought to enter. I called again without success. I pushed the door slowly and finally got past the threshold. It was sparse, much like my own. A big bed, a small desk, a shelf full of books. A very neat, very void room. I went down again, revealed the secret opening and listened. He was in his lab, I was sure of it. I knocked. It could be very hazardous to disturb someone brewing. Potions were complex, difficult and often dangerous processes. I was angry and troubled but I hadn't lost my wits. I would not disturb him in the middle of a tricky stage. He didn't answered so I tried the door— which was locked. Either he was having a hard time with his assignment or he purposefully shut me out. Either way, he would need to go through the sitting-room. I traced my steps back, made tea and settled in the couch to wait for him. He will not go there and get branded without hearing my input on the matter one last time.

I heard the door open and close quietly and his feet padding softly on the floor. By the sound he made, I knew him to be tired. He must have brewed a difficult potion. I'm not sure he was aware of my presence, lost in thought as he was. I stayed mute, allowing him the luxury of a shower and a change of clothes before getting into an argument. I had no doubt this time it would be of massive proportions. So I remained seated and bid my time. When he came back and retrieved a whole batch of potions, I made myself known. I didn't honestly care if he dropped the whole lot and got a round of Crucio for it. He would deserve it.

"And where are you going exactly?" I asked with just a tint of anger.

"A business meeting. Didn't you get my owl?"

"Are you taking me for an idiot, Severus? When have I ever let you under the impression you could fool me like a first year?"

"I have Potions to deliver. My Master awaits me. Surely you can manage an evening without me." I stood up. This man would be the death of me.

"Which master?" I inquired. He put down the vials on the nearby table.

"Hermione, I have no time for your childishness. I cannot be late."

"Not my problem," I countered meanly. "I want the truth."

"I have Potions to deliver. I will see you later," he answered in the same civil tone. I hated it. I wanted to slap him until his cheeks were red with the imprint of my hand. I wanted to yell and scream and rage and his calm polite tone annoyed me to no end.

"If you're taking the Mark, you could be bloody well open about it! It's not like I won't see it later," I pointed out but he refused to take the bait.

"Look. I'm getting into business, relating. That's what you've always rued about, haven't you?"

"This is not business Severus and you know it. You've been striving for this and I've been fighting you every step of the way over it. Did you honestly think I would stay quiet?"

"I only informed you I wouldn't make it tonight as we agreed to. Nothing more and nothing less. You're extrapolating." I came closer until about an inch separated us.

"You're lying through your teeth. You are getting the Mark tonight. Don't you have enough courage to look me in the eye and tell me you're getting branded? Aren't you brave enough to withstand the disappointment in my eyes as you _inform_ me? Were you going to hide away tonight and present me with a fait accompli tomorrow? Or next week? Oh, by the way Hermione, I got a new tattoo. Want to see? This one's a living one. Just the perfect leash for a good obedient dog!" I spat with all the disgust I felt.

"I have to ask you to get out before I lose patience with you. I will see you later Hermione."

"I refuse." His eyebrows shot up and he merely sidestepped me, aiming for the front door, most probably to open it and show me out. Bodily if necessary. I moved to stand in front of him.

"I can Apparate you know and save you from embarrassing yourself further."

"Do you hope she'll come back to you if you make a name for yourself?" A muscle twitched under his left eye. "She will never associate with a Death-Eater, no matter your achievements, no matter how powerful you become. You will renounce her if you do that."

"I don't see how relevant this is. She is off gallivanting with Potter. Not my concern." Irrelevant my ass. He knew who I was talking about and I haven't named her.

"You're dead set on this, aren't you? Because your father was a poor excuse for a Muggle, they all deserve to die. Because Lily's blood is tainted, she isn't better than her sister. Because the Marauders are Pureblood they are superior, more deserving than Lily, aren't they? They were such fine examples of Purebloods, don't you think?"

"We've had this conversation before. Debate's closed."

"Tell me Severus, because I need some assurance."

"I'm running late."

I fumed. I knew he would go eventually and that I was only delaying the inevitable. But I couldn't for the life of me let him go as if it was just some field trip. I saw him put on a cloak and carefully stack the vials into a bag. I should have smashed them. He turned towards me as if to ask why I was still here.

"You're going to regret it," I deadpanned. "All the praise, recognition and glory in the world can never make up for what they'll ask of you."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"It will damage your soul. They will ask you to brew poisons that will kill dozens of innocents— hundreds over the years. You may not cast the Unforgivable on them but their deaths will be on you. _You_ will be responsible. Do you want to become a murderer? Do you want to torture Muggles and Muggleborns?"

"I'm not going to kill anyone."

"Who are you kidding Severus? Whatever they promised you, fame, protection, power, whatever, it cannot be worth selling your soul to the devil!"

"I will see you later Hermione. Will you wait for me or shall we fix a date?"

I refused to answer. I clenched my teeth and fists, hard enough to be painful. I was completely powerless to prevent him from going. It was maddening. Upon my absence of response, he turned his back to me and opened the door. I had to try still.

"I've lied to you," I said desperately. I saw him tense.

"It can wait," he answered somewhat stiffly.

"No it can't," I insisted. "I hadn't always been entirely honest. Severus, please. I'm Muggleborn. If you take the Mark—" I pleaded but the words died in my throat. His back to me, I couldn't read him but I saw his shoulders sagged ever so slightly.

"I have to go," he answered simply. "I'm sorry."

The door closed softly behind him. A moan escaped me, revealing all the frustration, pain, misery and betrayal I felt. Howls of anguish followed in a heartbeat. I'm quite sure my wails reached him. I meanly hoped they stayed with him and tortured him while he got enslaved. I hoped they spoiled this event he had been looking forward with so much eagerness. I hoped they ripped into his soul and heart. Mine was breaking into a million tiny pieces. A hell of a bumpy ride, yes. Merlin but it hurt. I cried myself to sleep, spread haphazardly on his couch.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer : not mine. It's JKR's work.

* * *

 **Chapter 17 : August 1978 part 2**

I awoke hours later and felt terrible. My eyes were gritty and swollen from all the crying, my nose was blocked up, my hair in disarray. I was cold and my back hurt from the uncomfortable curling position on his couch. My head throbbed and I felt woozy. I hoped sincerely, dearly, with all my heart that it had all been a nightmare, a terrible misunderstanding. The ache in my chest, burning intensely told me otherwise. I sat up and rubbed my eyes tiredly. I absent-mindedly cast a warming charm on me to ward off the chill— vainly. I stifled a sob threatening to escape and fumbled to find a tissue. I looked unseeingly around, trying to determine the hour. I finally decided a fire was the first priority and set the hearth to flame. I was staring at it, lost in my thoughts when my consciousness, picking up and analyzing the shadows, finally alerted me I wasn't alone. I had no wish to talk— to him least of all. I should have left. But I was no coward and leaving would have amounted to fleeing. That simply wasn't my style.

"How long have you been here?" I rasped barely audibly, my voice sounding alien.

"An hour. Maybe two."

"That's creepy."

"Did I startle you?"

"I don't want to talk to you."

"Yet, you're still here. Hermione, look at me."

"No." I resolutely turned my head away, looking at the indistinct wall, grasping my robes in a tight grip lest I lost all composure. "Right now, I can hardly listen to you. I couldn't stand to look at you."

"You don't understand because you've never listened to me properly. It is not what you believe."

"I dare you to tell me your arm is unblemished," I spat, looking at the floor with enough intensity to set the wood on fire. No answer. "Thought so." I felt like throwing up. Supporting him seemed all good before he signed up for murder. Right now, it amounted to highly improbable.

"You have no idea what it's like to feel different, never to find your place, to be underrated. I am good Hermione. I know more spells than many Aurors in all their career. I can brew about any Potion. I can do wandless Magic since sixth year. I can cast non-verbally. But no-one never recognized it. No-one before them. What did you want me do? Forgo this opportunity to show them all how wrong they were about me and settle for mediocrity and harassment? Is that all you wished for me?"

His tone rose marginally, in frustration more than anger. I could picture him easily, sitting ramrod straight in his seat, his hands carefully folded in his lap, his dark hair hanging loosely around his face devoid of all expression to veil his true feelings, framing it, the shadows cast by the fire enhancing the hard planes of his face.

"And killing Muggles behind a mask will show them what exactly? Except they were right to distrust you?"

"I'm not about to kill people. I'm just brewing."

"And Remus never cursed you. Was he ever innocent in the bullying you suffered?"

"I see no relevance. Circumstances are very different."

"You're delusional. And in self-denial. You've agreed to torture and murder, no more no less. What a fine name you'll make for yourself. You're damn right to be proud," I snarled disgustedly.

"Yes, I am," he answered and I heard the irritation increase in his voice. And still I refused to look at him. "Who are you to judge?" He challenged casually, anger lacing his words, caressing them, enshrouding them.

Oh, this was low. No, it was vile and despicable.

"I'm the only one who fucking cares about your fate!" I glowered at the floor. The need to pummel him intensified and my hands itched dreadfully. I clenched them harder if possible.

"Well, you should be happy. There are others who are taking up your charge."

I stood abruptly and whirled around. The slap I dealt him echoed loudly in the silent house.

"How _dare_ you?" I raged through gritted teeth. After everything I faced for him, every opportunity I turned down, every fight and quarrel we had, how dared he imply the Death-Eaters would care for him like I did? I felt a knot in my stomach growing bigger with each passing second. All things considered, I should have fled, Gryffindor bravery be damned. I stared at him in outrage and saw him smirk. He had the gall to smirk.

"You're finally looking at me," he simply answered with a soft wan little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, a hand nursing his flaming cheek.

"Fuck you." I glared at him. The need to punch him hadn't lessened. At all.

"Very mature."

"I know what it's like to be different," I began breathlessly. "To be an outcast, to be too clever to be accepted. I know what it feels like to be whispered about and jeered. I know how losing loved ones feels. I know how hate and revenge feel too. Yet you don't see a Dark Mark on my arm, do you?"

"Like you ever let anyone see them."

I frowned and looked at my long sleeves. Hiding my arms was second nature because a Glamour could be seen and then raise questions I had no wish to answer. A quick charm Transfigured my jumper into a nondescript tank top. I held my arms out to him, stretched them til the muscles were taunt.

"Ever wondered what it feels like for a Muggleborn when you first get into Hogwarts?" I inquired. "Misplaced. You feel there's been a mistake. You expect to be thrown out at any moment. Then comes the embarrassment because you don't know what to do. You don't know the traditions. You don't know the social conventions. And finally come the jeers. And the insults. Mudblood." I spat. He didn't even flinch. "Tainted. Shouldn't be here. My father says you're not good enough to lick the dirt on my shoes." He frowned, ever so slightly, barely visible in the darkened room. "Mudblood. Jinxes. Mudblood. Tripping in the stairs. Mudblood. Being pushed around, cornered, laughed at, spat at. Mudblood. Starting a fight and laying the blame on you. Because you're nothing more than a Mudblood. Don't tell me about feeling different Severus."

"What happened?" he asked, a finger hovering above my scars.

"One found it funny to carve it into my skin so that I'll never forget my place. The spell was quite painful, I can assure you." I answered then Transfigured the top back into the comfortable long sleeved polo-neck jumper again.

"I'm sorry."

I looked at him then and saw his innocence. Despite everything, he had retained some of it. It would soon be crushed once he realized just what he had gotten into. I wanted to stomp on it, crush it under the sole of my boot, like he had done with my heart. He had no right to feel sympathetic and elated when I was down and drowning in grief. He had taken the Mark and I wanted him to suffer.

"Think about it next time you're tasked with brewing poison. Your decoction will kill someone like me." He straightened and hardened. All kindness fleeing before his wrath. But I wasn't done yet and didn't left him enough time to retaliate. "What happens now? Do you throw me out of your house? Because you can't very well entertain any familiarity with a Mudblood, can you?" I had the sick pleasure to see him seethe.

"I can do as I please."

"Yeah, right. I'll owl you when I can look at you again." I turned and Apparated home, nor caring what he had to say. I warded my flat against him then went straight to bed where I cried myself to sleep for the second time that night and for many more to come.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer : not mine. It's JKR's work.

* * *

 **Chapter 18 : November 1978**

I loved my training. I had never pegged myself as someone who would take pleasure in this line of work. When Harry and Ron had been all talk about the Auror program, how great it was gonna be, how lucky they could apply, how tremendously adventurous a job, how prestigious and spiced up, how marvellously thrilling, I had always remained impassive, not finding much excitement in the prospect. But I had listened patiently because it wasn't often they got so enthusiastic and it did have the appeal of projecting Harry into a bright future. One of the too few thoughts he had enjoyed to entertain. I had looked forward a more hidden academic job. And here I was, learning day after day how to deflect curses and jinxes. How to shield myself against Dark creatures or how to break the protective spells around old artefacts. I learned location spells and spying spells— the kind that saves you a lot of trouble if you remember to cast them before entering a tomb. The kind that scouts, searches and explores the area. The kind that comes back with readings about Magical and Muggle presence alike. The kind that detects Dark objects and creatures. The kind that saves your live. I learned basic healing spells because this line of work often sees you in difficult situations where bleeding all around will not help your case. Situations in which you find yourself easily with broken bones, a deep gash, an alarming blood flow or a troubling ache that augurs nothing well.

I liked it immeasurably. My wand too. When we worked together, when she agreed to my spells, we were a spectacular team. She had a mind of her own that one, exactly as Ollivander had predicted. But I loved her. She was a perfect companion and very reliable on the whole. Field trips I liked the best. It reminded me of the days with Harry and Ron. It took my mind of Severus, his Death-Eater activities and the fathomless chasm between us. I immersed myself in the training, working single-mindedly during the day, drowning my worries into the sink at the pub during the night where I washed up the dishes to pay the rent. Free time was devoted to further studies, forays into the Dark Arts, researches into Healing spells, Potions brewing, Herbology and medicinal plants. When I eventually collapsed onto my bed, no thoughts was quick enough to enter my mind before sleep overrode my consciousness. With such a busy time, I was top of my class. No surprise there. I've always been the most dedicated student. But unfortunately, as we were only trainees, we had holidays. And with holidays come free time. A lot of it. It meant a lot of time to contemplate, ponder, muse and worry.

Severus.

Halloween was in two days and I still hadn't talked to him. He hadn't tried to reach me either. Should I be concerned? He might have only respected my wish for detachment. He might also have chosen to continue farther down the road to Hell and disavowed me completely. I was Muggleborn after all. And I had lied to him. I had hit him, accused him, shouted at him. Nothing I regretted. I still felt the urge to do it again. And again until his ears rang and his cheeks flamed in shame and remorse. What could I ever hope to say to him now? How to fix the damage and restore the trust we once shared? I was no fool. We had been friends and we had trusted each other. Implicitly, like everything between us. Confidence, care, respect, worry for the other. All tacit. All present. And now? I could still perceive their echo, far away, distant, struggling under my smothering anger and feeling of betrayal. I could sense them and they rippled under my touch with distrust and fear, like the fragile petals of a tulip under a forceful wind. I should do something about Severus. I couldn't let things simmer and fester as they were. This wound needed to be reopened and absterged. Burned ground can be fertile again given time and proper treatment. Poisoned soil is sterile however. We needed to purge the impact of his Mark if we were to connect again.

I took up a side project I had abandoned. I had been working on a charmed object for us to communicate since seventh year. By dint of my experience with the DA Galleons, I devised a more intricate charm. The basic was a Protean so our mirror objects could interact and allow us an immediate flow of information as well as an untraceable communication. I also needed to tweak it enough that he could relay more details than our faked coins in fifth year could offer. Three years worth of studies later proved the undertaking far easier than expected. Heat was a natural side-effect but I wanted to use it more specifically. Since Severus would often be in need of help— medical help at least, but would rarely ask for it I wanted the object to notify me without his conscious interference. That was the trickiest part. The one I was having many difficulties with. The major flow as of now.

I had found the perfect objects: a necklace, inconspicuous enough to fit under a shirt, Slytherin enough that he would like it and beautiful enough that I would agree to wear its twin. I chose a silver snake chain, a very tight-linked chain that resembled the animal when taken off and laid down. What I fell in love with however was the pendant. They cost me several months of savings but it was worth every Galleon I spent on them. A snake coiling around a stone. And not any stone. A ruby. The colour of Gryffindor. The red of blood. A stone used as a talisman over the centuries and cultures. Worn as an amulet to ward off sickness, warn of impending danger, banish sadness and bring peace and serenity. A stone associated with loyalty, commitment and closeness. Yes, the perfect stone to match our strange relation and his dubious circumstances. The snake wreathing around it protectively, I couldn't resist. It beckoned me. Safely ensconced into a velvet jewel box, they were waiting patiently that I was done with my research, waiting to be charmed and put to good use. I couldn't wait to spell them.

But I needed Severus' cooperation. I needed his essence, maybe his blood to craft the charm that would alert me of dire need. I had tests to make. I sighed and penned a note to him, requesting a meeting in a run-down Wizarding pub in London. We could go there with a hood and no one who look twice at us. I had no wish to go back to his home yet and even less to invite him into mine. A public place it would be if he accepted to meet me. Once the owl had disappeared behind the horizon, I sat on the edge of my bed and wondered despondently what on earth I could tell him and how we would ever repair our friendship. I wasn't even sure I wanted to see him.

No, that was a lie. A blatant lie. And the most sarcastic part of me was laughing with undisguised scorn at the amount of self-denial I could entertain. I wanted to see him. I wanted to feel him. I wanted to smell him and hear him. I wanted to touch him and assure myself of his continued existence. I wanted to set my worries to peace and witness his good health. Or as good as he knew how to be. The indisputable truth was I had missed him. But I still had no idea how I could ever reconcile these feelings with his Mark and the abject loathing I had for it and his murderous activities. Could I look him in the eye? Could I see him and not only his Mark? Could I listen to him without constantly wondering what he had done the previous night or when would be the next meeting? Could I let him touch me without shuddering with disgust? Could I ever bear to stay in the same room? Oh, I had bragged to Lily, arrogant that I was. Now that the situation had changed and he had actually, really, purposefully, determinedly turned into a vicious and lethal fanatic, could I stick to him and support him? Could I? Was I truly willing to? I had told him, three months ago that not interfering was approving. If I abet him, wasn't I endorsing the Death-Eaters ideology? I had no answer and that kept worry gnawing at me, kept me awake at night.

I wouldn't get much sleep for many days.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer : not mine. It's JKR's work.

* * *

 **Chapter 19, November 1978**

When he arrived I had already downed two glasses of firewhiskey and was seriously contemplating draining a third. I was a bundle of nerves. Strange how meeting him could reduce me to a blubbering first year, trembling at the prospect of a Potion Class. Neville had more bravery that I ever credited him for if that was how he had felt for seven years. A broad hood hiding my features, I had chosen a deserted, shadowed corner of the dingy pub that I had elected in Wizarding London. No need to go to Hogsmeade when neither of us lived near. No way to get into a Muggle one despite the additional privacy and anonymity we would undoubtedly have had. I've never been there before nor did I expect to come back. It was filthy and dingy, clearly the lair of thieves and shady characters. Too run-down for Death-Eaters however. Those Purebloods would never lower themselves to such places. All the better for me.

I noticed him first. He had changed. I looked at him as he made his way to me, hooded too, his long black robes hiding his true musculature. He walked differently, more confidently which in turn, told me he had yet to witness and partake in the worst horrors perpetrated by the Death-Eaters. I almost sighed with relief upon seeing him unharmed. He waited for his ale to arrive before talking. I will be eternally grateful he took it upon himself to start the conversation.

"I hadn't expected to hear from you," he commented idly.

"I wasn't sure I wanted to in all honesty."

"Why are you here then?"

Ah, that was a good question. Many answers and none easy.

"I miss you," I replied softly and knew it was the true reason as the words caressed my lips in passing.

He said nothing, only turned his eyes into his glass and took a sip. A very large gulp actually. Now that I could look at him properly, I saw lines of worry around his eyes and tiredness etched onto his features. His shoulders revealed a stiffness I hadn't expected and he had thinned.

"When did you last get a proper meal?" He levelled his stare to mine in surprise.

"How is that relevant?" He wondered. I shrugged inelegantly.

"You've lost weight, that's all."

Silence overcame us and took up residence. It was uncomfortable, the kind of heavy silence that settles after an argument. When you have nothing to share with the other. When you are unwilling to connect or when you are distrustful. Never before had we struggled to sit together in silence.

"I don't know how to patch things up between us," I admitted sadly. He stared at me and I averted my gaze, suddenly finding it difficult to sustain his. "I do not agree with your choices. I want nothing to do with them. I have no intention whatsoever to support them. They make me sick and I cannot stand it that you chose to be one of them. It revolts me."

I looked back at him and while he remained silent I saw his pupils dilate and his eyes darken. He never was one who took well to accusation and blame. It was testament of our mutual respect that he let me elaborate instead of tearing me apart instantly. More than anything, this was proof of our friendship and it gave me hope. We could work it out.

"But I miss you. And I worry for you. War will only escalate and who will take care of you then? Your comrades-in-arms? Forgive me for being sceptical. When you will displease Him, you'll bear the brunt of his anger and don't expect the others to stick their neck out for you. I cannot approve of your choices but that doesn't mean I want you to be hurt either."

"I'm not sure whether I should be flattered or offended."

"And I'm not sure whether I should feel happy or afraid with you."

"I would never purposefully hurt you Hermione. Don't you know that?"

"We're in the middle of a war. And I embody all that your side hates. Doesn't take a genius to reckon it's highly improbable it will end well."

"And here I thought I was the pessimist."

We polished our glasses off in silence and ordered a new round. At this rate, I would be tipsy in no time. This walking on eggshells reminded me of the first tentative acquaintance we formed, back in Hogwarts. I never quite knew what would send him away or spark things off. When I had pondered every word, carefully avoided any physical contact, never allowed my gaze to linger too much, skirted around what clearly bothered him. Right then, before he became my reluctant friend.

"How's your apprenticeship?" I inquired. That was a safe topic at least and it allowed us to fall back onto casual talk about the more mundane. Before we knew it, it was dark outside and he was called back to his own busy life. We fixed a date for another meeting, still in a public place that Death-Eaters didn't visit. I wondered as he departed whether he was going to a meeting. It was the first time the thought lingered since we met hours earlier. I felt suddenly very sad.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer : not mine. It's JKR's work.

* * *

 **Chapter 20, January, 9th 1979**

I was giddy with excitement. After almost two months of hard unremitting labour, my necklaces were ready. Since November, Severus and I had managed a quiet truce and were building up our friendship again. It wasn't always easy and we argued more than once. But we went on, all in all. He was being called more often than not and I was getting desperate to put the finishing touch on my charm.

He never shared what happened or what he was asked to do. Occasionally, he would be withdrawn and contemplative. I read the papers— I had done the maths and noticed the coincidence between "incidents" and his mood shifts. Realizing just what exactly he has been committing himself to must have taken a toll— disappointment at the very least. But until now, he had never come home hurt— not that I knew of at least. In exchange, he got the recognition he craved and had access to a kind of Magic I could only speculate about. The Dark Arts had lured him before and he was very taken with them. His Magic had turned nasty and he could brew Potions so vile they weren't mentioned in books. I had no doubt his Master was a very talented Potioneer. But what he taught him made me shudder. Every passing day saw him become more adept at his chosen field, brought him closer to a Master in it. Severus had improved his personal lab as I noticed when I finally found the courage to go back to his place. When he brewed, the focus he had shown at school was nothing compared to the one he displayed now. He was completely engrossed and his nimble hands seemed to seamlessly fly from jar to mortar to cauldron. How many ingredients did he banish because they weren't cut in perfectly equal measure? How many hours spend crushing them into a powder fine as dust? His talent expanded under this tutelage, there was no denying it. I was getting worried however. He had been initiated about five months ago and I expected Voldemort to task him with increasingly difficult Potions. There would be times when he wouldn't be able to deliver. Punishment amongst the Death-Eaters is not kind. I also expected a growing number of meetings and all the gore that accompanied them. I was very worried indeed.

But today was special. Today was the ninth of January and it was Severus' birthday. He was nineteen today. Still a boy in truth. A boy who had made bad choices that would make him age beyond his years. Today would be a good day I had decided. I Apparated in his home at the end of the afternoon, found him in his lab— as usual, and managed to extricate him. I sent him to the bathroom and unashamedly entered his bedroom to sift through his wardrobe. I moved aside the heavy robes I assumed he donned for meetings with repulsion and resolutely turned towards the other clothes. I picked out black cotton pants with a dark green shirt and found a silver tie that would match. I spread them carefully on the bed and waited for him in the sitting-room after dressing up myself. I couldn't very well remain in his bedroom. When he finally emerged far more pampered than I was used to, he seemed embarrassed. Could he be shy because of me? I repressed a smirk. Standing up and bouncing to him, I looked at him critically. All groomed, he would blend perfectly in the restaurant I had picked out. His usually Potion-fumes induced oily hair was clean and almost shiny. It still hung around his face, falling softly, brushing his upper shoulders. I resisted the urge to thread and glide my fingers in it. His skin pale but not sallow, with a very slight blush colouring his cheeks with awkwardness. Cheeks which had lost their childish roundness— a shame really because it used to lend his face a more approachable look. His nose would forever be hooked and long— not his best feature but I've always known him like that and imagining him otherwise was odd. Wrong somewhat. My eyes locked on his lips for a few eternal seconds. He definitely wasn't smiling but the sneer he would sport as an adult was absent. It was more of a pout, born of a conscious effort to conceal his feelings and express nothing. His eyebrows were minutely drawn together— Severus has never taken kindly to being stared at, especially the way I was doing it. It could be sign of impatience or curiosity alike. It is always difficult to tell with him. Last I looked him in his eyes. His dark gaze held mine, a mixture of fond exasperation and challenge. I could see the deep brown they used to be on the rim of his irises and the influence of the Dark Arts in the clouds that swirled impassively there, unconcerned with my scrutiny and underlining worry. Sweet Merlin, but he was far gone for them to be reflected in his eyes. Black Magic, as attractive as it is, is dangerous. Smart as he was, it really was a shame that he'd lost himself into them. I smiled at him then. The indulgent and kind smile that Harry and Ron's antics would invariably conjure. A thought— unbidden, quick, troubling suddenly demanded my complete attention. My smile faltered imperceptibly and my mind jolted to a halt. For the first time since I've met him in sixth year, I found him handsome. Severus Snape was not handsome, nor would he ever be. He was not the attractive, raucous and fiery kind of guy that Sirius had been or my Ron. Not the refined handsomeness of many Pureblood Slytherins. Not the shy charm of several Hufflepuffs. Not even the bookish, nerdy good looks of some Ravenclaws that I appreciated. No. Severus was the brooding type, scowling, hiding, with his dark airs and dangerous interests. With his slender, dexterous hands and silky voice that could melt his cauldrons. With a frightening intensity in his eyes. No, Severus Snape could never be labelled handsome. His hair was too lank, his nose too hooked, his skin too pale, his body too thin and his teeth too crooked. After all, my parents had been dentists. I had a high sensitivity— one would say a complex as far as I was concerned, over teeth. And yet, at this moment, I looked at him and I found him handsome. Gryffindor help me if I was developing an attraction to the man. That could not lead to anything productive. That would never lead to anything— period. That way laid only pain and loneliness because Severus Snape would only ever love Lily Evans. I knew it before jumping twenty years backwards. The man would die thinking of his first and only love. I swore to myself that night that I would not develop feelings for him that went beyond friendship and care and decisively turned my thoughts onto the evening.

How utterly naive.

Decision made and internally shrugging the matter aside as dealt with, I warned him beforehand of our destination and despite his scowl of displeasure, he let me Apparate us to the Muggle restaurant I had picked. As we waited for our meals, I explained the motives behind my choice.

"I apologize for the place Severus but I didn't find it prudent to go into our world."

"Prudent?" he inquired softly.

"For you mostly. For your safety, you shouldn't be associated with me. As for me, well, you know how people are divided about this," I indicated slightly with my hand towards his arm. "It would be easier for me professionally not to be associated with _it_ ," I explained further, not able to conceal the aversion I felt as a deep sneer curled my lips. "No one here will recognize either of us. We're safe from prying ears and eyes. I am sorry if you're inconvenienced however."

"I don't like this world. It brings back bad memories. But rest your fears, I can survive a dinner. "

"I'm glad."

And I was. It was nice to feel comfortable together again. Nice to forget the war and his Dark Mark. Nice to forget our quarrels and divergence in point of view. Nice to simply talk about our everyday lives like normal, untroubled young adults. It would last as long as we were there, maybe until we part ways. It was only a brief respite but I was confident it would become a happy memory. Dinner was a quiet but refreshing affair. We talked more in that hour than the last few months combined. We brought each other up to date with our daily life. He told me about his Apprenticeship— the struggles and the joys, his assignments and his Master's researches. He confided what he admired as well as what he didn't like about him, confident I would be discreet and no-one could hear us. He revealed his hopes and dreams, his achievements and expectations. Merlin, but his eyes shone with pleasure and gratitude and he positively glowed. The thought struck me again. Primped and happy, he was handsome. I struggled to keep a straight face and listen to him. The revelation was almost too much to be confronted during dinner. He was happy. That is something I've never witnessed. He hadn't been happy at school. He couldn't have been happy at home. He would not be happy as a teacher nor as an Order member fighting towards the fall of his master. He hadn't been happy with me either— content maybe but not happy. Yet here he was, baring his heart to me, his happiness plain as day, written on his softening features, in his dancing eyes, in his flying hands and straight posture. Straight, not stiff. He was happy and proud. Proud to be finally considered worthy. Proud to be an eminent part of our world. Proud to be able to brew such complex Potions. Proud to be given consideration and responsibilities. Part of me was glad for him. He deserved to be recognized. Part of me was undeniably and profoundly sad that the wrong side saw to his needs and acted upon them. Ah but Slytherin could not be faulted for not being perceptive. They understood the intricacies of the human mind and heart, the struggles of power and the delicate balance of careful words. They could manipulate people and deal threats with a genial smile and caressing hand. They would rub key players up the right way and slither into the most beneficial position. And they had the means to grant anyone their innermost desires. Being part of the upper class of society had its perks. Never being short of Galleons was only one of them. It angered me. What a shame. What an utter waste. How could the supposedly good side let him slip through their hands to the benefit of Voldemort? What a bunch of idiotic, hare-brained self-righteous fools. They deeply lacked in terms of long-term strategy and assessment of people. They had brushed aside Severus' resentment and striving need for recognition and underestimated his motives and commitment. How many other youngsters had been lost to Voldemort because of their mistrust and prejudice against Slytherins in general? I was angry. I blinked and concentrated on Severus again, partaking again in the conversation, talking animatedly about my own job and the merits of living on one's own to drown those traitorous thoughts.

Dinner was getting to its end and when we ordered coffee, I felt suddenly quite nervous. I pulled out the velvet box out of my handbag and toyed with it for a few moments under the cover of the tablecloth. Severus may have been more relaxed than ever before but he was still perceptive and he had picked on my sudden edginess.

"Something wrong?" He wondered, brows slightly furrowed. "You seem troubled all of a sudden."

Gathering all my Gryffindor courage and obstinacy, cloaking myself in pride and righteousness, I lifted my chin defiantly and smiled at him.

"Happy birthday," I crooned and pushed the little box towards him. A strange look crossed his face and I felt my eyebrows lift in answer. "What? You thought I didn't know? I cannot remember ever treating you to dinner before. It is no coincidence, I assure you."

Instead of the smart retort and playful banter I expected, suspicion flashed in his eyes and settled on a slight sneer I sadly recognized.

"How do you know so much about me Hermione? My father, my birthday, what else?"

"Oh, don't look at it that way. Remember sixth year, when we began to see each other?" I waited for his nod. "Many tried to discourage me."

"I am aware," he replied cautiously. "Maybe you'd volunteer your motives for persisting in this way now?" He inquired tersely.

"Sure. I liked you and felt comfortable with you. Is it not enough?"

"I doubt it is worth challenging a whole school," he said flatly.

"You're a very contradictory man Severus. One day you're full of yourself with all you can do and the next you disparage yourself." Weirdly, it made me smile. "I really don't understand you at all at times."

He stared at me mutely. Ah, Severus and his silences. His voice was definitely is best weapon. He could reduce the bravest men to stuttering idiots with his sharp acidic words, get the most reticent to spill their secrets with his silences and derisive stares and even get girls to swoon when he turned his velvety silky tones to whisper about the art of brewing. Knowing the trap did not make me immune.

"As I was saying," I explained slightly miffed that I instinctively complied to his silent demand, "many tried to change my mind. I may not like to be swayed but I'm not stupid either. I was warned against you. I wanted to know why. I researched."

"You researched?" A brow lifted elegantly in mock derision.

"I looked up your parents. When I found no Snape before you, I assumed your father was Muggle. That's no great piece of deduction." I shrugged. "I'm Muggleborn. It was no problem to look him up in this world too. Summer was spent wisely."

"I should feel offended." I shrugged again.

"Maybe. Is it important?" He took time to munch over his answer.

"I suppose not," he conceded finally.

Putting a hand on my present, I pushed it towards him again.

"Open it."

"You didn't have to, you know."

"Of course not. But I wanted to. Go on. Open it."

With small delicate precision, he untied the ribbon and opened the box. My heart stopped. Then he threw a surprised gaze at me.

"A necklace?" Remarkable how two words can convey so much meaning.

"I know you're not prone to wear one. But this one is— special." I cast a very tiny notice-me-not charm on us. "I Charmed it specifically for you."

He nodded and I explained further.

"I chose a jewel that reminded me of you. Did you know it's called a snake chain?" I digressed, lovingly stroking the chain. He smirked ever so slightly. "Silver— in case you have to deal with werewolves. They can smell it. Their hesitation might give you a few precious seconds to react before they strike." He frowned. Suspicion would be on its heels. I rushed the rest. "A snake. So obvious, there's no need to explain. The stone is a ruby. It has often been used in protection charms."

"You're giving me— a talisman, Hermione?" There was no sarcasm, only befuddlement and astonishment.

"No." I frowned. "Well, yes, in a way," I amended. "We are at war and I'm worried for you. A little trinket cannot hurt. But that's not what the necklace is about really." His gaze bore into mine and for a split second, I saw my Potion Teacher about to lose his patience. I fought the urge to squirm under his intense look. "It has a twin." I took it out from my bag and showed it to him. "I've linked them with a Protean Charm. Are you familiar with it?" He nodded stiffly. "You can contact me. Whatever you write on yours will appear on its counterpart. Mine."

He wasn't convinced. I saw in his expression he would outright refuse it.

"Listen. War will get worse and it won't happen without some bloodshed of sorts. I cannot stay with you: it is unsafe for us both. Please, Severus. That is the only way I've devised to protect you. Not even true— it won't protect you much. But if you ever need me at least you can contact me without no one any the wiser for it. It is small and unassuming. Nobody will look twice at it. Please, Severus. It would alleviate my fears."

"You've tested spells these last months," he accused.

"Indeed. I've imbued the necklace with them. They would inform me of the urgency of your call."

He looked at me so long and so hard I thought I would combust. Yes, he would be the death of me. I hadn't really considered he would decline. But as I looked at his fierce calculating face, I felt doubt crept in. What if he turned it down? I had worked hard, so very hard.

"I make no promise Hermione," he finally declared.

"Thank you," I breathed in obvious relief. Ironic that I was the one thanking him whereas he was the one who received a gift. Good grief, I was thanking him for accepting a gift. What kind of twisted world was this? He could really be very uncouth when he wished so. I repressed the urge to sighed dramatically and instead lifted the spell on our table and called for the bill. I saw him stiffen in the corner of my eye.

"What's wrong?" I asked expecting Voldemort to have called him.

"You're not going to pay, are you?" Eyes narrowed to slits, I sent him a hard reproachful glare.

"I am not a thief Severus." He had the audacity to scoff.

"Of course not. But I cannot let you pay."

I blinked. Oh. That was another of those stupid gentlemanly things of another time that wizards were so adamant about. Women do not pay for dinner. I felt like rolling my eyes.

"Well, sure. You can pay for your dinner. Your Master is gonna be delighted to know you're walking around carrying pounds in your pockets. Just in case you get the fancy to walk into a Muggle restaurant." His lips pinched in displeasure.

"I'll just Transfigure some."

"Get you skinny bottom back on this chair," I hissed so low only Severus could hear me "or I swear I'll lace your morning tea with a Cheering Potion so strong your jaws are going to hurt when you'll finally be done smiling."

"I'd like to see you try," he challenged with a smirk.

"Don't tempt me Severus," I answered teasingly.

After this night, I knew it would be alright between us again. Back into my own flat, I closed my eyes with a small smile playing on my lips at the thought.


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer : not mine. It's JKR's work.

A/N: I know it's been a while, and I apologize but Real Life has been really tough these last two months.

This chapter is sadder than usual but, really, it had to be written. And honestly, I quite like how it turned out.

* * *

 **Chapter 21, October 1979**

Weeks and months inexorably went by, monotonous and rather uneventful. Death-Eaters attacks became almost routine, the Dark Mark glowing ominously in the sky over the houses of their unsuspecting victims. Of Voldemort, there was no mention. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had begun his reign of terror and people went about their daily life, minding their own business, and never saying his name in case it sent attackers on them. The snatchers of my timeline were not far but the feeling of despair and loss wasn't there yet. He was strong and powerful, had allies and caused great casualties but it wasn't the hopelessness of my time. It wasn't as dark times yet. If they had been afraid then, what would they have felt when Dumbledore died and left us bereft of a strong leader to ward Him off? Ah, innocents, all of them. The mindless sheep allowing Voldemort to govern them with fear. The Order and its ridiculous notions of bravery and virtuous outrage, with its skirmishes bordering on nonsense. They should have cut the ground from under his feet, undermining his hold on Slytherins students. The Order should have foreseen his preying on weaker, fragile children easily turned away from the more arduous but righteous path by means of false praise and rewards. Instead, they had snubbed them, sneered on their motives and erroneous ways of survival. Where they should have been models, they had stood cloaked in disapproval and scorn. Now still, they erred, concentrating their efforts on Death-Eaters and preventing attacks. Defence has always been their objective— until Harry that is. We will, the children that we were, bring attack to this war. We will act— foolhardily I admit, but we will take matters into our hands and try to bring this war to an end. We will take action and not only react. It wasn't fair that this burden will befall us because our forefathers had not been willing to see the error of their ways and own prejudice, leading us astray and increasing the chasm between the two sides of this senseless conflict. They were blind. I wasn't. I had chosen to come to this timeline and walked with my eyes and ears wide open. I looked and witnessed and pondered. What I saw was terror-induced behaviour. What I saw was segregation. What I saw was foolish bravery from the Order, apathy from everyone else, untethered cruelty from a bloodthirsty traditionalist elite afraid to change. But most importantly what I saw was doubt crept in Severus. I saw his deep conviction waver after the elation of the beginnings ebbed away.

Months ago, when we went out for his birthday, he had been proud. Proud of his Mark because it had brought him what he had craved all his life— worth. He had felt worthy, praised upon by his fellow Death-Eaters and his Masters. He had felt recognized for his achievements and hard work. Finally he had managed to secure acknowledgment of his vast knowledge and abilities. He had been spotted as promising and had committed himself in passionate gratefulness for their interest in him. Years of neglect and disdain had left him starved for positive feedback. I have no doubt they welcomed him into their fold with open arms and a warm brotherly embrace, dotted upon him about his proficiency with the Dark Arts, commended his natural talents in potions, congratulated him on his new spells and creative mind. Most certainly, they had goaded him into his hatred towards everything that would remind him of previous hardships— his father, the Marauders. Things that later morphed into hatred for Muggles in general and the Order which was largely represented by Gryffindors. He had basked into their treacherous words and false friendship. He had been Apprenticed by a highly skilled Potion-Master and rose up in the ranks of Voldemort's army. He had been called upon in strategy meetings, asked to give insight on the Order's operatives. His words had been taken into account, valued and for Severus, the price to pay had been well worth it.

It all began to change when Lily got married to James. His success hadn't been to everyone's liking and some lower ranked Death-Eaters took notice of his swift promotion and resented him for it. A half-blood couldn't very well be more favoured than Pureblood offspring. Direct attack would have been met with harsh retribution from their Master but most of them were former Slytherins, trained in the art of trickery and deception. Killer phrases, jibes in passing— I imagined it was bullying all over again but with a serious advantage for Severus. This time around, he was valued and his Master protected him— somehow, as long as he did as he was told and met his deadlines. The first clue was the way he had been told about Lily's wedding. The hostility behind the platitude hadn't been lost to him and he went home bothered and in a huff. He hadn't known about their engagement or at least, hadn't been willing to hear about it. His fellow comrade had mentioned it in his vicinity, hoping to draw some response from Severus. I wish him much luck with his endeavour. He never talked to me about it but I knew. It had hurt him— the wedding and the disavowal from other Death-Eaters both. By the end of summer, he had been asked for a more hands-on participation in the war. I don't know what he had to do. Those were his secrets and I respected them, as much for my own good than his. But I saw him get snarkier. He would bite my head off at the slightest word and he carried himself differently. At school, he was unobtrusive, always trying to blend into the shadows, to be forgotten. He used to walk quickly, noiselessly, his arms loaded with books that protected his middle side, slightly stooped, his shoulders hunched. When he joined Voldemort, his back had straightened and he had walked purposefully, confidently, his chin high with pride and his eyes alight with satisfaction. Now, it was more subtle, more subdued. His back wasn't straight anymore but stiff. Most would not notice the difference but I did. His chin was still high but a sneer adorned his lips and it was more in disdain than pride. His eyes had dulled slightly, as if a veil had been cast on them, dimming the light that once made them glow. He had taken a leaf out of the Pureblood upbringing book; his face was even more blank, denoting no trace of emotion except the occasional condescending lift of an eyebrow to an especially asinine comment. His hands clasped in his back, his hair hanging limp framing his face. He always wore clean, perfectly ironed robes. Always dark; black, deep green or navy blue. He was a balanced mix between Lucius Malfoy, the old bat of the dungeons and the Severus Snape I had met years ago.

The first time I saw him falter in his beliefs came after an unexpectedly vicious attack against a Muggle family. He never called me neither by Floo nor through the necklace but it warmed and I had the strange impression it pulsed which was completely ridiculous. Still, it alerted me something was wrong. I dared not Floo and I debated for several minutes the notion of Apparition. I finally opted in its favour and settled for a dark street near his house. I had chosen a set of heavy robes with a large hood that completely covered my face. I cast a spell which only revealed one presence, peeked into the house through the window and let myself in. I found him heaving the contents of his stomach in the toilets, his grip on the earthenware so tight his knuckles were as white as his face. A sigh escaped me as I whispered his name in sympathy. I gathered his hair to hold it back and felt him flinch. So here we were. From now on, he would only build stronger higher walls behind which he would retreat and push everyone away. I allowed myself a minute to grieve then strengthened my resolve. I tied his hair with an elastic band, Conjured a wet cloth to wash his face and cool his forehead then snuggled against him, his back to me. I couldn't offer much more comfort. I knew Severus. I knew he would lash out at me and try to chase me away with harsh words to cover his embarrassment and shame. I had searched him out and found him at his lowest and weakest. It would be weeks before he could look me in the eyes again. No, that's not even true. He would look at me, defiance and anger in his eyes, daring me to bring it up. But deep down, he would quiver in humiliation. And that feeling would stay and gnaw at him for weeks. When the sickness had subsided and he was calmer, I released him slightly and inquired softly about the situation. He had wondered, in a strangely broken attitude if there was any way he might manage to Obliviate and throw me out. Knowing he'd lost, he had rubbed his eyes tiredly and asked me for a cup of tea. It was the first time he told me about a raid.

With a hoarse voice and deaden tone that worried me, he told me the horror of his night. It came with difficulty, his sentences were often broken as if the words were reluctant to come. I believe he couldn't find appropriate words for what had happened. His mind reeling from its harsh reality, his heart inconsolable over the deaths he witnessed. He told me he had been asked to accompany another group in their mission and they had Apparated into a Muggle neighbourhood. He had known the Mark would glow that night but he had never witnessed murder before and he hadn't expected the gore that accompanied it either. Death had only been a vague distant read in the newspaper or an allusion during meetings. Nothing real. Until then, he had only done indirect damage. Ministry operations he had sabotaged, some Order's safe houses he had compromised, missions against his Master he had short-circuited, eavesdropping. Nothing that had resulted in cold-blooded murder. But tonight, he had accompanied some of the most favoured by the Dark Lord and felt honoured about it. But there had been nothing honourable. Nothing to be proud of. They had broken into the house, put up an anti-Apparition ward. He had been tasked with vandalizing the house without really understanding the point of it. The noise brought the inhabitants out of sleep and downstairs, fear in their eyes. His brothers in arms had tortured them— without any reason, only out of cruelty and perverted pleasure. It had unsettled him. I could only manage a small _"I'm sorry"_ which didn't cut it in the least. It was testament of his troubled state that he didn't even pick up on it. But the worse was not yet told and it was slow coming. The family they had attacked had a child. One of the Death-Eaters had found him and dragged him down. Severus confessed he had pleaded for the child. Had tried to shield him from the gruesome murder of his parents, had tried to save his life. The only outcome had been hard punishment on their return because of his hesitation— the child had only been Muggle after all and did not deserve any thought. But he could not forget the look of pure innocence and terrified helplessness of the kid. His heart was breaking a little more each time he closed his eyes and saw the light fade away from the child's eyes again— and again and again. His voice low and broken, there was an undercurrent of despair he had never conveyed before.

And while I grieved for him, he had brought this woeful situation upon himself. I had tried to steer him away. Lily too. But he had refused to listen. And now he would have to bear the consequences of his actions. His soul acknowledged the truth; nothing could justify the murder of a child. And nothing that approved of it could be worth fighting for. Yet here he was, bonded to a child-killer and unable to do anything about it. His conscience might have awakened and prickle at his mind but the harsh reality was that he could do nothing about it. Worse still, if he were assigned to a raid, he had no way to refuse the order. Stuck in an impasse, horrified and tormented as he was, there was still nothing I could do or say to alleviate his pain. I stayed by his side and took his cold hand in mine, offering the little comfort I could. He would have to come to terms with it on his own. I knew he would since he obviously still had a lot to contribute to in this war. But for this sleepless night, the first of many without a doubt, I remained close to him and let him mourn the loss of his own innocence as he shed delusions and recognized the true nature of his Master's maneuvers. My heart ache for him while his own broke into thousand shards that pierced his soul. This child would forever be imprinted into his mind and spirit. Deep down I knew his death would also have started the chain of events that will eventually lead to Severus becoming a turncoat.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer : not mine. It's JKR's work.

A/N : I'm sorry I haven't updated sooner. I hope you'll like it.

* * *

 **Chapter 22, December 1979**

"You seem satisfied," I commented one late night as we lounged on the sofa in his sitting room.

"I have risen in favour lately," he answered with a hint of smugness in his voice and I struggled to keep a straight face.

"How so?" I wondered still knowing his reasons would displease me.

"Did I tell you my apprenticeship is almost done? I expect a final test by summer and should be a Master before September." Ah, there's nothing like a little arrogance. Yet if I were honest, he did deserve to be proud about it as it was no small feat to be a Master so young.

"Congratulations! I knew you were adept but I had no idea you were that good. I'm glad for you Severus. You deserve your Master— after all, you've worked hard to achieve it."

He inclined his head on the side, silent acknowledgement of my words but dared not meet my eyes and let his hair obscure his face. Skilled at Potions he may be but not in accepting praise. What an utter loss. I suppressed a long-suffering sigh.

"Severus?" I prompted.

"Oh, I am looking for a job."

Ah, the Prophecy. It has finally come to pass. Sadness washed over me suddenly and a feeling of longing filled me unexpectedly. It has been so long since I last saw them. When was the last time I had been hugged? Too long. There wasn't anyone left— not Harry, not Ron, not my family, not a single Weasley, not even the other Gryffindors. And Severus wasn't the hugging type. Not that he never provided any comfort, just a different one and not the easy-going, friendly, tactile simplicity I had shared with them.

Another milestone on the way to Armageddon that reminded me of my purpose. I tended to forget the true nature of my venture into the past since I had begun to build a life of my own in that timeline. A very different life from the one I should have had— I would have married Ron, start a family and we would have grown old together, unburdened and happy. A comfortable, easy life full of love, surrounded by our families and friends. It would have been wonderful. Yes, I'm sure it would have. But it will never come to pass and I was left stranded here, starting anew. A difficult path towards a difficult, arduous, oftentimes unrewarding life. A life of hard work, rooted in principles and my moral code of conduct. I have no doubt there was love in it and friendship but it came in so few drops, so few people around me, so few laughs it was sometimes hard to see. But this was the life I had chosen and I did not regret it for a second, despite the hardships. It was a tough life, born from adversity and hurt, born from need and desperation but it was all I had and all I looked forward to. I cherished this second life and I would not trade Severus for anyone else in this timeline. He was caustic but I had been hardened and become quite a cynic myself. We complemented each other well. We would have a life of comfortable silences and intellectual concerns. There would be tenderness and care without a doubt. It would not be the easy laughter and temperamental rows I had shared with Ron, not with Severus. But it would be good too, in a more subdued and subtle way. No, I wouldn't trade my life for anything else in the available timeframe.

"Did you get one?"

"I went for an interview."

"You can't be faulted for reporting too much information all at once, can you?" I snapped as he was clearly trying my already thin patience. He had the gall to chuckle.

"Ah, Hermione, force of habit. Slytherin you know."

"Will you tell me how your interview is connected to being in favour of your Master?" I asked as he wanted. "Please?" I added with enough annoyance that it took all the civility out of it.

"He is not my Master," he bit out forcefully.

"If you say so Severus." He frowned and I knew an argument was brewing as it did each time. "Let's agree that we disagree, would you?" He grunted noncommittally. "Enlighten me, will you?"

"As I said, I was waiting for an interview. I overheard an important piece of information that I thought important to relay. Obviously, I had done well because the Dark Lord has in fact been appreciative of my initiative."

"What important piece of information?" He looked pointedly at me, disbelief clear that I would even dare ask. "What?" I countered. "It's not like I'm going to spill all your secrets to my immensely wide range of friends, you know."

He snorted slightly. Dry humour and sarcasm— this is what our friendship had taught me. But I knew him well and I also knew how to subtly sway him on smaller matters. This however could prove hard to handle but I was hoping that his good mood would play in my favour. Surprisingly, he confided in me, after a fair amount of pleading and relayed an edited version of the Prophecy.

"Born as the seventh month dies..." I repeated softly. "That means the end of July." He nodded. "Who is pregnant and relevant?" I asked aloud.

"The Longbottoms. The Abbot. The Weasley. The Bones. Most notably." I murmured acquiescence. I still wonder how I sometimes manage to steer him exactly where I wish him to be. After all this time it's still a mystery.

"Aren't the Potters expecting too?" There was no way to soften the blow. Lily's love for James Potter would inevitably evoke a bright and all consuming rage in Severus. To learn she was pregnant— it must have been hard to acknowledge they were happy together, enough to want a child despite the war. But Severus was good at hiding his feelings and thoughts. Not good enough to fool me but he was better than I could ever dare hope to become.

"Are they?" he drawled. "I wasn't aware," he went on as he sipped his tea.

"I'll try to know how far along she is to determine whether they could be targeted."

He didn't answer me which was not unusual. I knew my words had troubled him. I knew he would mull over them, listen around to get a clearer picture of the whole, that he would be extra careful and attentive since Lily was concerned. When he had relayed this piece of information to Voldemort, he had spared no thought to the consequences. A major flaw, yes, but he was twenty-one— still young and inexperienced despite the circumstances. Severus had tried to find a good shield and in so doing had mistaken slavery for shelter. That didn't mean he had grown out of his naive misconceptions and recounting the Prophecy must undeniably have owned him a favourable position. He would come round— I had planted the seeds of doubt. And yet, I felt no joy or relief. Only a profound sadness to be the bearer of bad news, a deep guilt to torment him with the knowledge his few stolen moments of glory beside Voldemort would cost him his love's life and anger against the unfairness of it all. His formidable resilience is most striking, you have to give him that.

I had come into this timeline to save my friends but as time went I had come to realize I would only witness the slow descent into Hell of someone I've grown to genuinely care for. I was powerless to help him as much as I had been powerless to help Harry and Ron. My pillow cradled my grief and tears more than once.

* * *

A/N : Just so you know, this was not what I planned when I first began this story. However, you surely know by now that writing often leads you far from the starting point. Which is why Hermione isn't doing much in terms of horcruxes despite all she knows and all she could be doing. I'm sorry if you're disappointed, but I just couldn't see it in my mind and write it so.


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer : not mine. It's JKR's work.

* * *

 **Chapter 23, January 1980 - part 1**

After seeing him mope for days, I had enough. Despite the closeness of our relation, it wasn't well-known and that granted me access to many circles. Getting a meeting with Lily Potter at this stage in war and after Severus had been repeatedly spurned, proved to be more than laborious. It stretched my patience and cost me a lot of favours. But in the end, I managed. I always do.

I hadn't wished for a public place, anticipating it could turn nasty. She hadn't wished for a place that could be used to trace her family. She suggested a Muggle place, most probably to throw me off balance. I gladly accepted knowing she would be at a disadvantage once she'd understand I was as comfortable there.

All the niceties gone amazingly quickly, we were already down to angry snaps after a mere ten minutes.

"Why are you here, Hermione?"

"Meet Severus, Lily. What would it cost you to listen?"

"Not this again," she sighed overdramatically.

"Well, yes, this again," I snapped. "You'll lose an hour at most of your time. How is that too much to ask?"

"I am not secretly meeting Death-Eaters! Or are you denying his position?"

"Of course not," I scoffed. This would go nowhere. And I had to find a way to convince her. "What are you afraid of? He'll never harm _you_."

For a split second, sadness and surprise crossed her features before she hardened.

"Coming from you, it doesn't have much weight."

I fumed. "What do you mean exactly?"

"Still thinking he's good at heart? Still sticking to him?" She asked instead, deflecting my inquiry.

"Well, what does it look like to you? Have I struck you as one who would balk at the first hardship? Maybe someone who would turn my back on a friend at the first insult," I trailed off, fighting a disgusted sneer off. I blandly looked at the blush rising in her cheeks. Anger is becoming to no-one, not even to pretty women.

"What's your point Hermione?" she whispered, her tone frosty.

Oh, I had her attention, now, didn't I?

"I've managed to piece things together over the years," I began. "His childhood— unhappy like all his life, a Muggle father who used to beat Magic out of his wife and child. The decrepit, poor, unhealthy neighborhood. The loneliness, fear and shame. And in the midst of it, a fiery red-haired light, bestowing kindness and understanding. You've always been his compass Lily. His beacon. His everything. Do you know how much he had looked forward a new, safe place to call home? Somewhere he would belong to, would have a rightful place into? Well, no. Of course not. You came from a loving family. And then you were surrounded at Hogwarts by friendly people, awed by magic and this brave new world you were now part of — with a thirst to learn and prove yourself worthy of the honour.

It is difficult to find one's place when you're different — too bright, or lonely. Ashamed of your background. Hardened by life. Not nice enough or pretty enough. You know nothing of the sort Lily because you've never been the recipient of cruelty — deliberate or careless. He was. And his hopes were ruthlessly crushed by the Marauders, by the indifference of his classmates, by the blatant favoritism towards his bullies. But at least you were there. A solid pillar, a friendly face, a giving hand. And that made it all tolerable. How long before he admitted to himself he was in love with you? Did he tell you? I suppose not. But you knew, didn't you?"

I waited for a sign of acknowledgment. It took time. The silence did us both good, as my words hung in the air, heavy in their potency and leaden by my anger. Sadness washed over the both of us.

"Yes, I knew," she replied quietly.

"And he called you a Mudblood." Anger marred her features— at the insult or at the memory I do not know.

"You weren't there Hermione. You have no idea what you're talking about. He was _wrong_. Should I have let it go? Is that what you believe I should have done?"

"He was sixteen. And humiliated before the girl he was in love with. He lashed out."

"And it should excuse it? I don't think so, no."

"It's no excuse, Lily. And you were perfectly within your rights to be angry and disappointed. But breaking all ties with him over a one-time insult? Disproportionate. You were looking for an opportunity to get out of this relation. And you chose the coward way out of it."

"You're wrong. You don't know me and you didn't know him then. You're extrapolating and assume it's the truth. You don't know what you're talking about. And it was no common insult."

"So you think I don't know what it means? How degrading, making you feel worthless, no better than cockroaches under a pile of shit?" She looked at me strangely and I suddenly ripped my sleeve, revealing Bella's everlasting gift. "The damn scars never faded. Still believe I don't know what I'm talking about?"

"Hermione—" she began in a disgustingly apologetic tone but I had no wish to listen to her.

"I had friends once. So close, they were like brothers. One was my first love. Called me a freak. Insulted me more than once. Accused me unfairly. Gave me the cold shoulder for months at a time. And still, we managed to patch it up. But you, all Gryffindor embodiment, bravery and everything, could not find it in yourself to forgive a single-occurrence of insult, as debasing as this one? I know for a fact he chased after you. Humiliated himself further to apologize. Can't you be honest just this once and tell him he was forgiven long ago for this but that you couldn't bear to stand witness to his willing embrace of the Dark?"

"It had never been about the insult," she refuted.

"Did you tell him? Because I'm not sure he knows."

"I did. Whether he chose to listen is another matter entirely." I sighed.

"Meet him Lily. He is a Death-Eater, yes. But he only has your best interests at heart in this encounter, I promise you. Set your conditions, I know he'll meet them all.

This is war. And you're on opposite sides. Set the record straight between you two before it is too late. I don't ask you to sprout friendliness. I only ask that you hear him out and that you be honest. You're said to be kind. Well, extend it to him. Just once. One last time."

"And why should I?"

"Because he was your friend once. Because I know his last thought on his deathbed will be of you." I clenched my teeth. It must have shown on my face somehow.

"You love him," she simply answered. The moment seemed to expand infinitely before shrinking onto itself. A myriad of answers crossed my mind.

"It doesn't matter," I answered. "There is only space for you in his heart." A deafening silence met my words.

"Alright," she finally conceded. "I'll meet him. Once. On my terms." I nodded, unexpectedly relieved.

"Thank you," I managed. Strange how two small, insignificant, common words could suddenly be so difficult to utter.

* * *

A/N : After all Hermione, Ron and Harry have gone through and their frienship still emerged intact, I'm sure she would have looked down upon Lily's reaction. In my opinion, they would not have been friends.


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer : not mine. It's JKR's work.

* * *

 **Chapter 24, January 1980 - part 2**

A small inconspicuous owl found me a few days later stating a place, a date and a time. A concise line requested both our presence.

When I presented Severus with the note, he received it with his usual passive face. But I knew him well by then. I saw suspicion raging with a concealed eagerness in the way he held himself perfectly upright, the way his face remained utterly impassive, the way he held the missive. He was a quick reader and yet he read it twice, lingering on her initials before delicately folding it again and giving it back to me.

"I trust you've checked it?" I nodded.

"Indeed," I confirmed.

He turned on his heels and holed himself up in his lab for the following days. I saw neither tail nor head from him.

The meeting itself was hugely anticlimactic. Lily had only brought Headmaster Dumbledore with her – openly. I sensed a few others— most certainly Order members, well hidden and out of earshot. Her husband and the other Marauders were blessedly absent. Unfortunately, Severus cast a Muffliato around them, effectively keeping us out of the conversation altogether and entirely oblivious of its content.

I knew he would tell her about the Prophecy. He would argue for her safety, trying to convince her to flee, to hide. He would even throw James and Harry in the balance just for her to be safe. He couldn't bear the mere thought of her death. At least, this time, he would manage to say goodbye and set things straight with her.

I assumed Lily would keep her position, refusing to give in and hide like a coward. She was a Gryffindor after all and not of the meek and quiet kind. She would get into the thick of it, like Tonks, Ginny and I in the future. And die, I had no doubt about it. I egoistically hoped she would forgive him— for the insult, for his attraction to the Dark Arts and for delivering the Prophecy to his Master.

I could surmise part of it by Severus's body language. That he would allow anyone to see it, that he would lower his defenses showed just how exhausted, frantic and afraid he was and how much he loved her. At this precise moment in time, I hated her with all my heart. Still, no need to cry over spilled milk.

Regrettably, Professor Dumbledore seemed anxious to set things straight with me also. He greeted me respectfully, a small, patient smile lingering on his lips. For a split second, I was back in my own lifetime, safely ensconced in a seat in his office at Hogwarts and expected him to offer me sweets. As it was, he simply let silence lengthened. Well, two could play. I've learned from Severus Snape after all. And if he was anything, it was enduring.

"You're making a good name for yourself Hermione. I've heard you're quite talented." He finally offered when it became clear I had no intention whatsoever to speak.

"Thank you Headmaster," I answered, not willing to participate anymore than necessary.

"I would have thought you would go into law. You have after all a very keen sense of justice. Sure you shouldn't have been in Gryffindor?"

I pondered his words. He had always been good at reading people. Even if I was sure he had no idea of who I really was, he had most certainly picked up bits and pieces and connected them together to form a coherent whole. Talking with me and analyzing my posture, answers or whatever scraps he could glean would either confirm or disprove his suspicions. I had better be extra careful.

"I thought I'd contribute better at society as a curse-breaker. And if I'm wrong, its' never too late to try something new."

"True enough." He paused before speaking again. "Lily informed me of your meeting."

"I should expect so, yes."

"I had no idea you were Muggleborn."

"I had no idea it mattered," I retorted.

"Considering you're Severus' friend, I beg to differ my dear."

"Severus has no friend. That's a luxury he cannot afford. And a blessing he had always been denied."

"He was friend with Lily as a child."

"And look where it landed him. Branded and enslaved. What an improvement." I felt his eyes on me then, his slightly reproachful gaze, his curiosity piqued. Oh, there was a cheering thought : something that unnerved the Great Albus Dumbledore.

"He has you."

"And what a fat load of good that did. Prevented him from turning all by myself. Saved his soul and everything. Hail to me!" I cheered without joy.

"So cynical, Hermione. You've changed my child. You certainly were sad when you arrived but I never expected you to be so stark so young."

"War tends to do that."

I had already revealed far too much. When would this blasted conversation be over? Thankfully, he refrained from speaking again. Severus and Lily were talking animatedly now and I assumed they were arguing about Lily's refusal to run away.

"He's lucky to have you. Even if he's blind to it right now." His voice rose again, much to my chagrin.

"No need to cheer me up, Professor. I only came because it was Lily's terms."

"I wasn't _cheering you up_ , Hermione. Merely making an observation."

"If you had extended a tenth of that sympathy towards Severus at school, he might not be stuck thus now."

"Are you blaming me?" I made no mistake, this question was loaded. The tone soft, the implication heavy. But I've never been one for staying quiet. Even as a child, I couldn't be made to shut up.

"You hold some responsibility, yes. For one, Sirius deliberately sent him to the Shrieking Shack."

"Severus has always believed so. But Sirius is not a murderer."

"Of course. Gryffindors can't be wrong. Nor can they _do_ wrong."

There was a pregnant pause. Neither of us was willing to back down. I didn't have to look at him to know his twinkle had gone, his lips had thinned and he sported a displeased frown. However, two timelines had brought me to a harsh revelation: this man I once respected intensely, this formidable wizard will send two men I deeply cared for to their death without a second thought if he believed it will end Voldemort. Anger simmering under the surface, I decided to expand.

"Well, this war can't be won without the _untrustworthy_ traits of Slytherin, you know. So, you tell your precious, righteous Order that they'll have to dirty their hands if they hope to have the slightest chance of winning."

"I trust you don't intend to fight with us?"

"I will not join your merry band of self-congratulating Gryffindors, no. Mark my words because I always keep my promises: I will stick to Severus. He deserves to have someone who simply cares. Who loses sleep when he's gone to a meeting. Who will patch him up. Who will remind him to eat. Who will ease the nightmares. Who will cool his forehead when he retches his heart out. Did you wonder—even once— about him? Or did you throw the towel in and declared him lost for good? I warned you years ago. I told you he was not such a villain. But you wouldn't listen, mmh? The snotty, undesirable know-it-all, too knowledgeable in the Dark Arts, too clever for his own good hadn't deserved your attention nor compassion. No sympathy for the sour Slytherin who tried to get his bullies expelled by any conceivable means and associated with the wrong crowd. It had always been easier to just make sure your precious Gryffindors would be assets for the Order. That Sirius— the only Black who showed more than blinded bigotry would stay true to your cause. Severus was just _collateral damage_." I turned fully towards him then and looked straight in his eyes. "I dare you to tell me he deserves this as befitting retribution for taking the Mark."

"He's found himself a fine advocate with you." He had sidestepped the challenge. Obviously, he did believe so.

"No need to be sarcastic Professor. Just because you resent my words doesn't make them any less true."

"Do not use that tone with me Hermione. I said nothing unkind."

"With all due respect, I'll do exactly as I please. My only care is Severus. Anything else is irrelevant. I will however put your fears to rest: all knowledge I have of the Order— and it is vast— is safe with me. You can still ask Sirius if you doubt my word. I know as much about the Order as I did about the Marauders."

"And why would you do that if I may ask?" I noticed he didn't asked me how I knew nor to define my knowledge. Oh, he was good.

"You might not believe it but I have even more reasons than you for wanting Him dead."

"Why won't you join us then? We could do with your skills."

My eyebrows shot into my hairline and I stared at him then, trying to determine if he hadn't listened, hadn't understood or simply didn't care.

"You want me to join, work with, trust, call friends and maybe even owe those who helped push Severus into His arms with their hatred and abuse? Is that what you're asking of me, Headmaster?" I rephrased quietly, in a deceptively low voice.

"Ah. I see." No, he saw nothing. He wouldn't see it if it was trying to eat his face. "Well, I feel better knowing he has you by his side."

"Oh, because you somehow managed to feel bad for him before this meeting? That's a first."

"I understand your anger Hermione. But I did nothing to warrant your spite and will ask you to watch your tone."

We stared each other down. He was right—partly. And I'd do well to remember who I was talking to. He was still infinitely more powerful than any other wizard alive— Voldemort included. It wasn't in my best interest to get on his bad side. I had said what had weighed on my mind for years and he had allowed me to do so. I was angry still, true. I blamed him partially for Severus' abysmal life-choices, true. And yet, he had the means and the potential to save Severus from Azkaban even if his price will be at least as disproportionate and life-threatening as Voldemort's had been for joining.

Strategically speaking, I should concede him a point, as much as it cost me. And apparently, I had grown arrogant. I slightly inclined my head and averted my eyes in silent defeat. It seemed to appease the Headmaster. I would however never apologize.


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer : not mine. It's JKR's work.

* * *

 **Chapter 25, February 1980**

Winter was particularly cold that year. The first days of February saw snow cover everything. Outpouring blizzard soon followed by a steady drizzle of flakes. It offered a deceptive sense of peace and purity, lend a false impression of quiet and appeasement to the landscape, merging the hard planes together to form a round quilted whole, muffling sounds and concealing tracks, the stark contrast of the Dark Mark reflected on the soft white carpet, colouring it green all but a mute reminder of our harsh reality.

Work had ceased to relieve stress and anger quickly. At first, I had managed to work myself senseless, to forget the war and Severus. To forget the overwhelmed Order, the murders occurring right and left, the sense of impending doom, my own guilt in refusing to act despite my knowledge.

I couldn't bring myself to risk endangering our friendship by babbling about what was to come to Albus Dumbledore knowing I had no assurance it would change the war significantly or to my benefit. I could for example have gone to him and told him Severus would eavesdrop on his interview with Trelawney thus preventing him from passing on the Prophecy to Voldemort. Yes, I could have. What would it bring however? No Prophecy, the Potters aren't killed, Severus doesn't defect to the Order, the Dark Lord is not vanquished, the war doesn't cease. Fat chance that wouldn't kill Harry and Ron in the end. Or, no prophecy from Severus but from someone else who will hear— what exactly? The whole thing? That is not a ripple: that's a tsunami. Surely, one could argue that I could not possibly know the outcome of such a drastic change which is true enough. However, I was unwilling to risk all I've worked for so hard. If that meant Lily Potter had to die, Severus had to suffer and my best friend had to be an orphan, then I'd swallow bile and do it. I felt so much like Dumbledore when such thoughts plagued me that I usually ended up barely sleeping. Guilt and doubt ate at me.

At this rate, I would die of sleep deprivation, bad eating habits and stress before the end of the first war. Severus wasn't faring any better. A year earlier, I had given him a way to contact me. And Merlin, but had he often these last weeks. The Meetings were taking a huge toll on him, not always in gore or hurt for he wasn't that mistreated. Despite popular belief, from what he sometimes recounted to me, there was no revel, no Muggle torture after meetings. Sometimes, the Dark Lord would make an example and kill someone but most of the time, those activities were confined to raids. And torture was only preferred by the vilest of his followers— Bellatrix being the epitome. Even Malfoy, ever the perfect poise and elegant upbringing, wouldn't dirty his hands so much. Don't misunderstand me, he was one of the foulest but he hid it well and since Severus and the Malfoys were acquaintances, people that he truly considered close to allies had me thinking and slightly more prone to be tolerant. After all, if Lucius Malfoy deserves nothing more than a slow painful descent into hell, publicly humiliated, called out and incarcerated for slander and incitement of hatred, his son would prove far less loathsome. And Draco's mother had been a Black with the potential to be decent as Sirius had proved— will prove— would prove— whatever. She had cared for her child and that couldn't be dismissed with the back of one's hand. She had loved him and had tried to protect him despite the extenuating circumstances— chosen or not; her son had always been her first priority. I could never cast her the first stone for doing her utmost for her child once they had both been cornered into a deadlock. And her love was what nurtured Draco's unwillingness to kill the headmaster or even his reluctance to use more than insignificant jinxes at us in the corridors. He could have done much worse but hadn't. He had settled for insults and taunts— nothing that warrants my complete hatred. I could not forget that. But I digress.

Severus rarely came home with gaping bloody wounds. He occasionally suffered from the Cruciatus when he displeased his Master but not so much that the tremors would prevent him from brewing. He had been under His wand more than once however or that of another Death-Eater. Severus once told me how disappointed he had felt once he had understood he wasn't going to be much more appreciated there than he had been at school. Of course, they respected his prowess in the Dark Arts and feared his Potions for he could brew odourless and colourless poisons. And he wasn't known for failure. All in all, he had few scars to testify of his painful extracurricular activities. Because they hurt him in the way that counts most; they made his skin crawl and his soul shudder. He never told me how many fell under his hand but I knew when he had participated in a raid— he was always more sullen and withdrawn and the bags under his eyes as well as the amount of Pepper-up he would down betrayed his sleepless nights. I tried to be there for him whether he requested my presence or not. Most often, he would snap and lock himself in his lab. I knew better than to impose myself there and usually sat with my own work in his sitting room or kitchen. I would fix a meal, remind him to eat and bring tea or coffee every few hours. He knew I was there and willing to listen if he was ever willing to talk. He very rarely did but I know my presence was comforting. It was more than he had been given until I came.

To this day I still find it strange that we struck a friendship. We are after all two very different persons. I have often been said to be bossy and I used to be a stickler for the rules which earned me few friends but I changed as I grew older. I never had a wagon of friends but those I had I loved dearly. I always tried to be fair and sympathetic. I pride myself on being loyal. I don't think I am vain even if I can tend to arrogant and I sometimes confess to intolerance. Severus was the exact opposite: prejudiced— against Gryffindors mostly, unfair and unsympathetic— except to his Slytherins, arrogant and caustic, never made an effort to clean up, a solitary personality that borders on antisocial. No he was not like me at all. And yet we struck a friendship, a good sturdy one even, one which had sustained arguments and injuries but still stood tall and strong.

Friendship. Such a small, simple word for a complex notion. But what made a friendship exactly? What did tie me so strongly to Harry and Ron? At first, there had been support. They had sought me out to help me because of the troll incident. I had been put in danger because of Ron's carelessness and insulting behaviour. But they had cared. Then had came respect and trust. I can't honestly say we had never hurt each other or that kindness had always flowed naturally but we had cared and worried, we had helped and supported and mostly we had loved each other unconditionally. We had smiled, and laughed and cried together, had listened patiently or argued when needed. I had been happy with them. Maybe that was it. Friends were those who made you happy and stay by your side no matter what. If that is so, then Severus was my friend too. Yes, I could find all the same in our relation. Loyalty and support— all of it was based on it anyway. Supporting Severus had been my sole concern since I began talking to him in sixth year. I loved his sarcasm and his dry humour and often laughed in his company which I enjoyed tremendously most of the time. I respected him as a powerful wizard and an educated man and knew he respected my abilities in turn— his use of the necklace I gifted him was one proof out of many. I trusted him to keep my parentage secret and to keep me out of danger as much as he possibly could. I cared for his safety and well-being and knew he kept an eye out for me in Voldemort circle. Even if he tended to judge and was not above hurting me deliberately, I had ranted and rambled in his presence without feeling an ounce of shame. And of course I stood by his side when things got seriously tough. Would he do the same in a decade when he will understand who I really am? I can't honestly say for true. Did I love him though? That was a tricky question.

I had loved Ron. I think I might always do. But he seemed to me such a distant dream now. His amazing smile, his broad frame hugging me, the laughter dancing in his eyes, his easy going attitude, his fun-loving personality had me pining for him for years. And when we could finally be together, he had been ripped away from me cruelly. I miss him still. But I can barely remember him now. My memory has blurred, leaving only the feeling of home and comfort when my mind knows better. Ron and I— we had been explosive. He had been insensitive, spoke without thinking, made general false assumptions, tended to be narrow-minded and yelled far too much to be rational. But he was loyal and had a big heart. He could be kind and gentle and I loved him dearly.

Severus was different. I never thought myself in love with him. I cared for him and worried. I enjoyed his presence and felt better when he was near. We could spend hours in the same room in comfortable silence or argue endlessly over literary works and still found ourselves content. I was drawn to him but that doesn't make it love, does it? It simply was the way we were. True, I had occasionally noticed how close he was and how my skin had tingled. My hands sometimes itched to touch him but I had managed to refrain myself. Well, yes, so I could admit that I was sometimes lonely and maybe have a little attraction. It could not in all honesty even qualify as a silly crush.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Or could it?

* * *

A/N : She can be a bit slow on the intake sometimes. But he is worse.


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer : not mine. It's JKR's work.

* * *

 **Chapter 26, June 1980**

He had been called to a meeting hours earlier and I expected my necklace to warm any time soon. But when it actually did, I almost dropped what I held. Instead of the soft warmth it usually produced, it was burning. I opened my blouse and was amazed to see unblemished pale skin, not angry red as I expected.

True enough, I had always been good at Charms and my Protean charm had been far more potent and accurate after my seventh year that in fifth. Not mentioning I had spelled it carefully as I had explained him. His levels of adrenaline triggered it so that the necklace reacted upon his perception of urgency. The hotter, the direr. Of course they were some firewalls or I would be perpetually bothered by the jewel. But this temperature had never been achieved yet and it scared me in its intensity. I knew he was alive for my necklace would be as cold as ice otherwise. That was the only up in the present situation. I had seen Severus in various states of hurt and depression since last October. He had stumbled home several times mostly out of sheer exhaustion, barely managed to call me before collapsing on the threshold of his lab once, had been snarky, inward and despondent more often than I cared to count but I had never had the impression the necklace had melted with my own skin. I was scared out of my wits. I turned it over with many precautions and difficulties. Written in small illegible scribble for anyone but us was the code word for his home. I grabbed my cloak, a few Potions, a first-aid kit and Apparated there with some trepidation.

And there he was, standing in his small, dimly-lit sitting-room apparently unhurt. No blood visible, neither on him nor on the floor. But his disheveled state— something wasn't right at all. Severus was not someone who would let himself seem disordered and dazed, not even in the privacy of his home. And there he was like a deer caught in the headlights. He startled when I appeared. Something kept me from running to him to check him out. Was it the heavy cloak lying haphazardly on the couch? Was it the way his hands would clench unconsciously? Or the shadow his body cast on the ground that seemed to envelop everything, to cloud the poor light into abysmal wells of Darkness, that seem to grow and superimpose itself onto the man himself?

"Severus?" I called, for what else could I have possibly said? _Are you alright?_ Obviously he wasn't. "What happened?" I finally decided upon, hoping to at least get some hint about the reason for such uncharacteristic behaviour.

"There was a meeting tonight," he began, his voice totally flat, strangely reminiscent of that night after the first raid he had participated to. A meeting wasn't such a rare occurrence nowadays so I waited for the rest of the story. "Some had noticed the new recruits were somewhat squeamish." Well, who wouldn't? Joining meant torturing and killing. It was one thing to believe on the superiority of Pureblood, it was another to get your hands dirty with this supposedly tainted blood. After all it was as red as theirs. "They mentioned it to the Dark Lord." I repressed a flinch. It unnerved me to no end to hear him talk about Voldemort that way. He hadn't turned yet and despite a growing unease and distaste, he would never even consider it. Until Lily was brought into play again at least. "He had tasked me with brewing a remedy a while ago."

"Didn't you succeed? Was He displeased?" It seemed such a simple explanation.

"Oh, no, I was very successful. I am very good at my job, you know? There was some initiation again tonight." He was talkative. Was he rambling? That was very unlike him. "Of course they wanted to test my potion. Had me bring a whole batch with me. There was ample quantity for everyone." He seemed to retreat inward for a moment then started talking again. Very strange indeed. Severus was one for discomfited and disconcerting silences, those that made you uncomfortable and made you start spilling without conscious thought about it. He was a master manipulator of silence. And he was definitely rambling, talking quickly, much more than usual and in that still unnatural flat voice. "We held special guests tonight in that prospect."

"Oh," a small interjection of surprise escaped me as realization dawned. Oh, gods. A bloody meeting. There were the strategy meetings where they were tasked with whatever missions, discussed whatever plans or the positions in the ranks, initiations and so on. Then there were what I had dubbed 'the Bloody Meetings.' When they tortured and killed Muggles, Muggleborns or Blood Traitors alike. He always came back from those badly shaken. Usually took him days to come to terms with whatever happened then. I never asked. His considerable researches are proof enough of his sleepless nights. I did not want to know. And no need to ask if his potion worked. Severus brewed it. It was potent.

"Oh, I am good you know," he bragged but there was some underlining sarcasm. "It was well beyond my expectations."

There was nothing to say, nothing to ease his mind. He had willingly chosen to follow and obey that maniac. And I couldn't bring myself to touch him right now. Even a small pat on the shoulder, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Maybe that was what he needed deep down. But I couldn't. Not yet. What had he done? Torture? Most probably. Rape? Probably too. Murder? Definitely. I cared for him. I would support him despite his life-choices. I had chosen that road and I would abide by it, through Hell and fire. But touch him after a Bloody Meeting? That was above my abilities. The thought repulsed me enough and I couldn't do more than consent to be in the same room. Well, when all else fails, make a cup of tea.

"I'll make some tea," I offered, already moving towards the kitchen.

"Yes! Let's!" The vitriol in his voice stopped me in my tracks. "It will make all the wrongs damn right!" I knew his temper to be volatile, especially in situations such as these. I could feel hurt and leave, I could turn angry and answer in kind or I could breathe slowly and try to understand where his hurt came from.

"I thought the warmth would calm your nerves or at least steady your hands. They are shaking." He looked down at them and clenched them tightly in fists. He punched the wall. Once. I startled. When he lifted his eyes up to mine, there was a craziness dancing in their depths that worried me, a troubling fierceness I hadn't yet been privy to that seemed to beckon me, to tease me on. I fought it off.

"I was wrong to call you. Go home."

I might not be known for obedience and meekness but I knew an order when I heard one. Severus Snape admitting freely and willingly of being wrong? That was unheard of. If he started apologizing, I would die of shock. There was more to this and I would get to its bottom. I took in his still frazzled state, his rumpled clothes. The mixture of emotions on his face— anger, disappointment, hurt, guilt, shame and a dazed veil over it all. Mostly, I watched his hands. They were always steady. He was a Potion-Master after all— or almost one. He needed to have steady hands in every possible situation. But he was clenching and unclenching them reflexively. Sometimes, he would fist his robes. Sometimes, he would let them hang limply at his sides and the tremors would invariably come back to them. Was it the after effects of a Crucio? But the temperature my necklace gave off wasn't one of a bad session of Unforgivable. He had ridden some before yet never come home in such a state. When he had come back with the death of a child on his conscience he hadn't been like that. Deeply disturbed, despondent, angry as Hell, guilt-ridden, haunted, unresponsive and unreachable, yes. That wasn't what he exuded right now. He looked more like he was hanging on the last shreds of self-control by a thread. A very fine, tenuous and slippery thread.

"What was that potion?" A sudden stroke of inspiration flared.

"A Disinhibitor Potion. Suppresses the chemical reactions of your body and mind that causes feelings of fear, shame or embarrassment. Makes you act on impulses with no care for propriety."

Well, well, well. Wasn't that evening getting worse by the minute? And they fed that to the newbies? What a night they must have had at the meeting.

"Can I do something for you?" It was an innocent question. His stare wasn't. His eyes raked over me hungrily. He visibly fought the words that came to mind and finally decided to clamp his jaws shut on them. Time to change my question. And how did that relate to him, despite the obvious?

"What have they done?" He smiled then, a bright, shark-like smile. I didn't like it one bit.

"They spiked the wine."

My mind drew a blank. I sometimes forget how casually blunt Severus can be. He would deal you the truth without a shred of diplomacy to soften the blow. He hadn't much care for others. Scratch that, he had none for anyone apart Lily and I.

"Pardon me?"

"They gave a vial to each newly-Marked Death-Eater. But they also dosed the wine without my knowledge. I saw no reason to refuse a glass."

He drank the damn thing. Ye gods. Was there none listening tonight? He watched the thoughts on my face and suddenly advanced on me. His stare had turned murderous. I recoiled.

"I do not rape women!" he asked frostily, correctly assuming the pictures that had crossed my mind. "What do you take me for?" he whispered nastily. Never before had I been afraid of him turning on me until then. But I wasn't one to shy away either.

"I never thought there would be a day when I would have to remind you," I mused aloud then paused. "You _are_ a Death-Eater, Severus." A slap would have been softer than my words. He blanched and stepped back minutely. I saw it because I was watching, looking for it.

"My _fellow comrades_ hoped to loosen me up because I've always refused to participate," he spat as he straightened up, very still and very erect. "I can't believe you would assume I partook in _that_."

"You brewed the Potion. There was no way it wasn't potent."

"I have more self-control than that!"

"Yes, very clearly, you do," I snapped. "That's why you made so many lucky life-altering choices!"

I had been out of my mind with worry and he was flustered about the trivial fact that he drank a fucking potion and was out of his usually rigid self-control! What mad alternative world was this? And now, I was getting sucked into the argument, throwing accusations and laying blame. Very mature.

"I made a mistake!" he yelled. "I'm kicking myself every single fucking meeting for not listening to you and Lily and thinking this through! Are you happy knowing this? Does that make you feel better Hermione? Because it certainly doesn't help me."

I froze and blinked. How many sentences were wrong coming from his mouth? Mistake? Lily? Sorry? Wrong? Having Severus finally admit aloud he regretted taking the Mark— or as good as admitting it, should have overjoyed me. It didn't. There was something very, very wrong with him. He would never have blurted the truth that way. Unless…

"What have they given you?" I whispered, more afraid of the answer than I should.

"My potion. And Veritaserum I suspect. A strong dose."

"Can you fight it? Did you let anything slip over there?" Worry, scared to death I associated with Severus. This was known ground. I could now begin to reason and plan ahead. Emotional, impulsive and Severus were words that didn't mix, like oil and water.

"I left as soon as I felt the effects. I didn't even have to lie. I had no wish to join in on the _festivities_."

"My necklace burned Severus. I understand you're upset but why was it so hot?"

"I needed you."

"What for? I haven't done anything since I arrived. Apart maybe getting into an argument."

He didn't answer. I had the perfect opportunity to ask whatever had nagged me for years. Yet, I wouldn't. Some of those needed to be said in confidence to be accepted as true. Veritaserum couldn't do this. It just made sure no lie could be said.

"What do you want me to do?" He visibly shuddered again and fought his answer. I was onto something. And it certainly concerned me. "Severus?" I insisted coming a step closer in a show of trust.

Something swirled in his eyes. His pupils dilated and a look of determination settled onto his features. He was cautious and seldom let his emotions decide but at that precise moment in time, I knew he had relinquished control over them. There was a sudden gleam glowing in his black eyes, alight from the inside with a feeling I didn't immediately recognized. It lurked far behind a usually closed façade. Some part of me was waiting in tense anticipation, another wanted nothing but to bolt out of the house. I stood rooted on the spot, the wall on my back, feeling preyed upon. Instinct told me to move. Quick. Willpower kept me upright in rapt stillness. He pounced on me. There is no other words. And when he did, the word came back to me.

Desire.

That was what I saw in his eyes. Why he called for me. What he fretted about. Why he fought the Veritaserum. Because he was a proud man who did not take rejection easily. Because he had already screwed up the relation he had entertained with Lily spectacularly.

He kissed me. Darn that man who couldn't do anything the normal, conventional way, who had to cloud everything in darkness, anger and misery. I had waited for him to kiss me, I had longed for him to do so for weeks and he had to do it when he's under drug, angry and in the pits. When his love for Lily had finally receded enough to leave a little bit of wiggle room for me, _this_ happened. Of course, Severus Snape could not kiss me on a happy occasion. He had to kiss me on the night of a Bloody Meeting. Just my rotten luck.

He kissed me hard, hungrily. A bruising kiss, more demanding than giving. Disinhibitor Potion indeed. He held nothing back the sly little fox. He pushed me against the wall and plundered my mouth with a relish I hadn't thought he possessed. I did not know of any woman he had ever dated. He hadn't talked about it in seventh year but there was still a very slight off probability he had dated a girl within the confines of Slytherin. I doubt it however. Damn, but for a first kiss, he was talented. He left no place untouched. When he pulled back enough to get air, our lips were tingling and swollen, red from the assault and his taste lingered. Red wine. It had been red wine. His grip on me tightened if possible. Maybe he was afraid I would flee from him. Maybe he thought I would slap him for his impertinence. Maybe he had assumed I would scream in fear, disgust or outrage. I don't know what played through his mind. What I knew was that he had willingly kissed me and that I could finally have him. I grabbed his shirt, not that it would bring him any closer. I could smell him, his usual herbal earth scent mixed with a few others I couldn't place. Right then, he was mine and damn the circumstances. Damn the Bloody Meeting and the images it kindled. Right then, rational thought didn't seem doable. I could see his Adam apple bobble up and down and the swirls in his eyes. I could feel him against me and purposefully grounded my hips into him, eliciting a low irrepressible growl. I smiled smugly. I kissed him with an ardour to match his own. It was enough. I don't know how we made it to his room nor how my blouse survived his impatient attempts at unbuttoning it. His mouth never left my skin. There was an unrestrained need that night we never achieved again. We improved over the years for we fumbled tremendously that first time as neither knew exactly what to do. But our clothes found themselves spread haphazardly on the floor and we found the way to the bed so we did manage the essentials. Technicalities and expertise come with time. Let's just say we practiced a lot from then on and leave it at that.

xxxxx

I never pegged Severus Snape for the cuddly type. Never had I imagined he would enjoy spooning and touching after sex. But I awoke the next morning with a rough, calloused hand gliding softly, reverently over my skin, from my lower back to my neck, following its curve, grazing down my arm, getting back to its starting point and starting its revolution again. I laid there unmoving, enjoying the peace and serenity of this moment, so rare for either of us. The tenderness, the intimacy of that morning was soothing. Severus was a hard man, difficult to reach and even more challenging to decipher. I never knew where to stand, what to think nor what he felt. It was but sweet relief to finally have an inkling of his feelings for me and rewarding somewhat of all the hardships I had faced at his side. He traced the contour of the tattoo I had on the small of my back. My eyes fluttered as it tickled. Aware I was now awake, his hand remained on me still, never ceasing its hypnotic dance.

"What is it?" he inquired softly.

"A memory," I answered straight off. I felt his index finger on it, caressing, prodding, following every curve, rubbing gently on the green. "It represents the friends I lost but will always love with all my heart. It is my way to never forget, to share everything with them. As we used to do."

The pads of his fingers still on it, I understood his question, his subtle way of inquiring and felt the compulsion to explain. But I couldn't. Not without giving my secrets away. The tattoo was an allegory of Harry and Ron. A sitting Jack Russell terrier— its coat white and flaming red. Two malachite in lieu of eyes—manga-like huge and brilliant green. Under his paws, a great sword, half hidden. In his jaws, a bouquet of flowers: forget-me-not, heather, ivy, lilac, chrysanthemum and zinnia. There was no way he could understand the implicit of my tattoo, its real meaning, its significance. I had it made about three weeks after graduation in a small underground Muggle shop in London. I brought printings of Jack Russell terriers in various positions, of the flowers I wanted drawn and pictures of my friends. I asked specifically for the colors to exactly match. I demanded the sitting position— waiting, trustful, always at the ready. Sitting like the lion of Gryffindor. The color of Ron's hair for his own Patronus, a dog loyal til the end. Like he had been. Like I was being, trying still to protect them, to save them from their undeserved end. And of course, Harry's eyes. My best friends. My brother and my first love. Mine for all eternity, etched into my skin, inked into my body, indelible. And Severus was tracing it, inquiring. It felt strange to say the least, erotic even. It would not be the last time he'd ask. It would not be the last that I'd rebuke him.

"It represents them. Every feature, from the choice of the animal to the colours, everything reminds me of them."

"The location too?"

"Indeed. We used to always protect each other, to support and back each other up, to have the others' back. I couldn't possibly have it drawn anywhere else."

"Don't you have any regret?"

"It's a Muggle tattoo, Severus. It's just a testament, a tribute, a token of love. I have nothing to fear from it. It is not a mark of obedience and nobody has a hold over me through it." Silence stretched for a few minutes but it wasn't uncomfortable. "You know, sometimes they seem but a distant dream of the past. Most days, I barely remember their voice. But when I see my tattoo, it's like they are looking back at me and I can almost feel their presence again at my side. I can hear their laugh and witness the delight in their smiles, their eyes crinkling in mirth and good-humoured tease."

"You love them still," he commented idly, his hand resuming its path on my skin.

"Always," I replied solemnly and it was the end of it.

* * *

A/N : Of course he would pursue her only under drugs. He wouldn't even know how or where to begin otherwise. He should be utterly thankful she is so understanding. And in case you're wondering, he has **NOT** participated in the meeting, that's why she doesn't reject his advances that particular night despite her inner thoughts at the beginning of the chapter.

flower meaning

forget-me-not : remember me forever

heather : solitude

ivy : fidelity

lilac : first love

chrysanthemum : loyalty and devotion

zinnia : thoughts of friends


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer : I own nothing. It all belongs to JK Rowling.

* * *

 **Chapter 27, August 1980**

Severus had outright refused to talk to me about his discussion with Lily a year ago, going as far as to slam his door to my face to get his point straight home. He would eventually tell me if he needed to. But from the forever present frown between his eyebrows and the number of melted cauldrons in his lab, I had deduced it hadn't gone as he had wished. It took days for him to settle down. I know because his pacing ceased, he didn't snap at me anymore and his lab returned to the quiet expected from a soon-to-be Potion Master. At the end of July, Harry was born. Severus holed himself in his house and worked until exhaustion made him stumble onto his couch. After a few weeks, life returned to normal, as normal as could be for a Death-Eater in wartime. For a few months at least.

When my wards suddenly alerted me he had Apparated in my home, I became immediately frantic. There could be very few reasons he had come to me. The first thought that crossed my mind was he'd been Called and he was dying on me. But he wasn't. Not at all. True enough, he was clearly not himself. He was shivering even as he stood in the middle of my small flat, hands shaking. His shoulders hunched, his posture defeated. His hair hung loosely before him. I smelled fear in the air, tasted it. What the hell had he done now? He refused to meet my eyes when I called softly to him but complied easily when I directed him to my couch. I got some tea going and waited patiently for him to crack up while the water grew hot. There was nothing much I could do and such an anodyne sound could soothe him, taking his mind off his feelings. I looked on as he struggled to compose himself and reign in his galloping emotions. I've always been amazed at the control he could exert on himself. Rigid. Unwavering. Absolute. Maybe too much.

"I may have made a mistake." I waited: there was more to come. He looked straight ahead, fixing a distant point somewhere in the middle of my carpet. "Lily wouldn't listen. And he wouldn't spare her. What else could I do?" Was he willing to talk about this? It seemed very dubious. "What have I committed myself to, Hermione? How am I ever going to pull this off?" He wondered aloud as he looked straight at me.

Oh, so Severus Snape could rant. The world never ceased to amaze me. And what was I to do with him? I raked my mind, trying to think of something that would cut him short and shake some sense into him. A slow, somewhat unpleasant smile spread on my lips. It was after all for his own good.

"Severus Snape, stop this nonsense this instance and start talking properly," I barked in my best imitation of his teaching voice.

He looked at me and frowned. Good, his attention had been successfully redirected. As long as I could bear the brunt of his acerbity, all would be fine. An eyebrow lifted elegantly, a not so subtle question directed at me.

"You were ranting. That was scary," I answered and saw a corner of his mouth rise.

"I asked for Dumbledore's help tonight." Disgust dripped from every word, confessing in their own quiet way how much it had cost him to go down there to beseech the assistance of a man he didn't hold in high regards.

"Did you secure it?"

"I am here to talk about it, aren't I?"

"True enough." Should I help him along the way? Obviously. "What did you ask? More importantly, what is his price?" I knew it naturally. I've seen his memories-to-be, those he would give Harry, a lifetime from now. My own seemed somehow muddled, like a vivid dream. Very bright but eluding as soon as you tried to reach for it and recall it clearly. It would help him however to say it aloud. Give some reality to it. Put some needed distance and perspective, allowing us to analyze the situation objectively.

"I secured Lily's safety. He will make sure they go into hiding, somewhere He will not be able to find."

Was he not going to let the other shoe drop?

"Severus, what is his price? To shake your confidence so, I can only fear for you."

"I will report to him any relevant information and retain from Him which would wreck havoc." No need to state names. There was a small pause.

"You turned spy." Another minute one.

"I did."

I licked my lips. I knew he would— at some point. I had hoped he would as soon as he'd come home proudly bearing the Mark. It didn't lessen the sheer terror threatening to overwhelm and devour me. It didn't ease the jealousy at the thought he was willing to risk his life for _her_. It didn't help me find the right words of comfort. Truth was all there was left.

"You know you wanted to. You've grown troubled about _it_ over time." I nodded toward the Dark Mark. "What they expect of you. The price to pay. I think you made the right choice, however hard." He nodded, as if my voicing of his own thoughts made them truer. The steely glint in his eyes reappeared and he straightened, the defeated slouching on my couch giving way to the stiff stance I was familiar with. "You have all the necessary skills and the heart to succeed. I have every confidence in you."

"Thank you," he said and inclined his head slightly. I think my words affected him more than any of us expected. But silence was not comfortable — and it should have been. "Spit it out Hermione. What is troubling you that you do not wish to share?"

"I am— afraid, Severus. Aren't I entitled to? However capable, you will have to hide everything behind a steely wall. Not trusted by your allies, on a razor's edge with your former associates, always a breath away from discovery and ultimately your death. Even I will need to become a shadow in your life. I won't be able to Apparate to your home anymore. No public meeting for every one of your moves will be scrutinized, every action, every word, every glance. Aren't I allowed to mourn it for you? I have no doubt you'll fool Him because I have an absolute trust in your abilities. You are one of the most accomplished wizard I have ever met — you've mastered several fields of Magic, you're a marvel at Potions-making, you can do wandless magic and you duel like it is a dance. Your shields are strong and you can both defend and attack. You have an analytic mind that allows you to evaluate a situation quickly, debate over the potential outcomes and decide on the most advantageous course of action to take in a matter of seconds. For as long as I've known you, you've always managed to keep a blank face. You will pull it off and you will succeed. But what about you? Who will care? Who will worry? Who will take care of you? Because we both know you will not."

"I will manage Hermione. You said so yourself: I have the necessary skills to. And I trust you'll be around."

"As if there was need to say it."

As he drank his tea, I watched sadly as my Potions Teacher emerged. His shoulders straightened as if to better bear the weight of his new responsibilities, of this brand new suicidal mission. From his posture to the complete lack of facial expressions, he was becoming every bit the old bat of the dungeons. I knew he was composing a new persona to survive the ordeals to come. I knew it was necessary. I knew there was no other way. I knew deep down, he was the same as yesterday. I also knew that over time, this would change him intrinsically. A sense of bereavement, a keen sense of loss washed over me, a somber cloud descending on my head and heart. It suddenly felt as if I'd lost a friend of mine again. I wanted to cry. Plastering on a fake small smile on my lips, I hid my grief inside my mug of tea. I don't think he was fooled.

* * *

A/N :

She would be jealous, wouldn't she ? I think in her heart of heart- she would. I want her to at least. I enjoyed writing it. And for once, they behaved as I expected them to: amicable, friendly and very secure together.

A bit of timeline for those who wondered. I copied the info from Wiki Harry Potter.

 **1980**

31 July: Harry Potter is born to James and Lily Potter.

August: Snape learns that Voldemort has decided that Harry Potter fits the Prophecy and has marked the Potters for death. Snape asks Voldemort to spare Lily. Snape, still desperate to protect Lily, warns Dumbledore that Voldemort is planning an attack on the family and begs Dumbledore to keep Lily safe in return for his loyalty. The Potters go into hiding at Godric's Hollow.

 **1981**

24 October: Fidelius charm cast on Godric's Hollow to protect the Potter family, but it fails when the Secret keeper, Peter Pettigrew, betrays the Potters to Voldemort.


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer : I own nothing. It all belongs to JK Rowling.

* * *

 **Chapter 28, Fall 1981**

I hadn't managed to get much data on Severus Snape before I Travelled. I had known I would need it but be it because of his muddled past, his cover, his own solitary existence, his frigid attitude towards others, because I had no access to any files since Death-Eaters were prowling everywhere or a mix of it all, I still uncovered next to nothing concerning Severus Snape's timeline. I knew the basics — when he had been a student, when the Potters died, the year he had turned spy, the time when he took the Vow which Professor McGonagall had bound, my disastrous sixth year and his death. That was about it. It wasn't much by any standards.

Fact was, Lily and her husband — still currently alive at Godric's Hollow under the Fidelius — would die by October, 31st. Another undisputable fact was, Severus would be devastated by her death. I knew he would be put on trial and that Dumbledore would vouched for him quickly after the fall of Voldemort. What eluded and befuddled me was the timekeeping.

I made preparations. I assumed Severus would want to go to Lily's funeral thus started brewing Polyjuice. He wouldn't be welcomed— not with the Death-Eater's brand on his arm. Had he been able to attend the first time? Had he dared? It mattered not in the end— I would make sure he got the chance to say goodbye this time around. To go there and mourn her passing along those who cared for her as well. I confess some dread about the situation— what state would he be in? To what extent will he be willing to show me? What help will he allow me to give? There was no way to answer those. I brewed some more. Healing salves and Murtlap essence in case he deliberately hurt himself, sobering potions for hangovers, calming draught and Draught of peace to relieve anxiety, dreamless sleep and sleeping draught if he ever let me give him something to sleep — not that I held out much hope.

War seemed at a standstill despite the Intel Severus had been providing the Order since he changed side, a year and a half ago now. It had gradually escalated until no outcome seemed more probable than another. Voldemort had marked the Potters with a seal of death and no pleading from Severus had made any difference— apart maybe several nights spent in pain because he had dared questioned his Lord's absolute judgment. Even at its culmination, it was not the utter despair of the second war. True enough, the first order of the Phoenix was deceased— or about to be sent to oblivion. But despite his connexions and infiltration of the Ministry, Voldemort hadn't officially won. And there was Dumbledore. Businesses, school, studies, Ministry— it was but a well-oiled machine which operated fully despite the war and its corollary. In my timeline, it hadn't. Many shops had closed, had been vandalized or worse— its owners had been incarcerated or ambushed. Night was a scourge nobody was sure to wake up from. The first rays of dawn brought their own worries— informing, trials, registering at the Ministry, Voldemort's interference into the school, Snatchers. Each day brought its own ordeals.

I had witnessed his life become a horrendous nightmare. I stood by as he obsessed over Lily's safety. He never talked about it but his attitude changed — he had withdrawn and was more prone to snap. The birth of Harry had hit him hard as evidenced by his harsher and colder stance. His double-life was burdened by his spying activities and it showed physically— lines of worry and tiredness appeared onto his face, he had thinned and aged, no smile had softened his features for months. I had to slip away from his life for our respective safety and we both suffered from the recurrent but unfamiliar absence. We only had each other and without the other we were dreadfully alone. I missed him and know he missed me too in his own twisted way. We only met when it was safe— he contacted me through our necklaces. I wished for this war to be over. I wished for the relative peace that would follow. Severus will still be bound to Albus Dumbledore and Hogwarts and will have to forgo all his dreams and expectations in return for bailing out of Azkaban but he will be safe from harm— physical and psychological. I saw his anguish over what he had to do under Voldemort's command—I held him during the worse bouts of it, when he was so weak and vulnerable he couldn't conceal it from me anymore. I would have to leave to finish my studies. I might do me good anyway, to see other places, other ways, other people. Hunting for hidden treasures can't harm me much, not in the way that count. I might come home with a few more scars, an heightened sense of danger, maybe a few fears more but nothing life-threatening and traumatizing as the war or the torment of being the helpless bystander of the gradual destruction of Severus's life. Yes, it would do me good and I was looking forward to it. But first, some remaining milestones for Severus had to come to pass.

October flew by in a whirlwind of activity and work as well as Death-Eater meetings and raids which left indescribable damage in its wake. Severus seemed to operate on autopilot, going through the motions in his house but his senses were all on red alert and he was desperately grasping at the end of his rope downing potions after potions just to manage everything related to Voldemort— which was about all his life: his work, his spying, the meetings, the raids, Lily, me. I do not know how he managed. Maybe that is why he had always been such a bastard when we were children. After all he had suffered for Lily, all the time and efforts he had devoted to the demise of his Master for the last year, maybe he couldn't just understand the carefreeness of our eleven-years-old selves. I don't think he had ever felt it. Maybe one day, I could find a way to make him experience it for himself. I was afraid he would snap and betray himself. I was terribly scared he would die but even more so that he would suffer— since it was far more probable. And I could do nothing to alleviate his fears or his pain.

The night of the Potters' death was a sleepless one. I did not know what I should do. I was very tempted to go to Albus. But should I? I had sent an anonymous owl to forewarn him but it was more to assuage my guilty conscience that anything else. There was no way Albus would compromise a safe house under Fidelius because of a warning from an unknown source. He would be on alert and will be able to reach Harry in time— but not save his parents. I felt like a monster to have the means to prevent so much misery and still choose to do nothing about it and let events unfold as they already had happened. I could have given Harry his parents. I could have given Severus the safety of Lily. I could spare Sirius Azkaban. At what cost however? How long would we have survived if Voldemort hadn't been defeated by Lily's sacrifice? How much longer before Severus was discovered and tortured before they killed him? How much longer would the Potters have lived? Too many future events depended on Sirius in prison. It was a difficult decision. I liked Sirius and he didn't deserve those years in jail under the torment of the Dementors. He didn't deserve to be judged and found guilty of the murder of his best friend. He didn't deserve to be believed a Death-Eater and a traitor by Remus. But Harry will become who he was because of the Dursley. He will thirst for equity and justice. He will thrive under duress because he had always known and understood it. He will choose Ron over Draco because of his cousin. He will embrace the Wizarding world because the Dursley had made the Muggle World uninviting. He will devote himself body, mind and soul to his adopted family because his parents died and Sirius is absent. He will become the man I respected and cared for because of all the difficulties he will overcome due to his unfair and tragic circumstances. Knowing it didn't ease my guilt.

Severus was a mess when he crashed back at his place. This night had been one of the worse of his whole life. He had learned his latest decoction had killed dozens Muggles, had been ordered to kill as many as possible in the raid, had discovered his Master had killed the woman he loved and disappeared in the same instant, had to relive everything in his debrief with Albus, had his whole world turned upside down. He had been coerced with emotional blackmail into protecting the child of a man he had always hated with a passion, had realized he could never honour a life-debt, held himself responsible for the murder of Lily both because of the Prophecy he had relayed and because of Sirius. He came back into his home and collapsed on the threshold from sheer exhaustion. He had managed to deplete his magic and his will to live seemed to have abandoned him. I didn't even have to force-feed him the potions I had prepared. I could have had a rag doll in my hands it wouldn't have made much difference. Sometimes during the night, when his sleep was deep and his subconscious tried to process and assimilate his overwrought, repressed emotions, I felt him shiver and cry. He clung to me as a child would a mother after a nightmare. Master Occlumens he might be but there is a limit for everyone. Lily's death was Severus' limit and he had finally reached it. There was no further road. He had arrived at an impasse and he would have to confront his dreams, his failings, his regrets and what the future could bring him. He had choices to make, difficult and arduous ones. But for the time being, he was sleeping and his silent, unrepressed tears were soaking my clothes and ripping my heart. I could have spared him this terrible pain, so raw and gut-wrenching he was crying under Dreamless sleep. I could have but did not. I clenched my teeth. This was my burden to carry, the consequences of my choices. I was left pondering what to do with Severus and myself now that Voldemort had left us a respite. I had waited the whole night and now I spent the whole day mulling over those troubled thoughts as I sat in bed, cradling Severus head on my lap and guarding his sleep during the thirty-six hours he was out.

Celebrations broke everywhere else. The Death-Eaters were scattered, most scurrying back to dark holes from where they would try to grease an official's palm to elude trial but the newspapers reported new arrests every few day. That was the only up. The Order was gone, his most prominent fighters dead apart from the Longbottoms who would never recover, Remus who had lost all his friends and was an outcast because of his condition, its head Albus Dumbledore and the few teachers who partook in it. Severus was crushed and empty. They had sucked everything from him and left him to die of grief and guilt without a second thought. Nothing I could do seemed to bring life back into him. He died that night with Lily. The only reason he went on was the Vow he had taken to protect Harry when the time would come. Only her memory and his unremitting shame over his iniquity kept him from taking his own life. He went on, projecting his unaffected persona but I knew something was very wrong. I couldn't reach him and worried about it tremendously because I saw no change in him.

I informed him of her funeral and he looked straight through me, blankly. I encouraged him to go and accompanied him. He didn't even ask why I had Polyjuice nor who we transformed into. He didn't comment on my brewing nor its potency or the way I should have stirred just that tiny fraction counter-clockwise every ten stirs to enhance its duration. He attended silently, came back and made tea just as silently before sitting on his couch and looking blankly into the hearth until his cup was cold. He closed off for a few more days then suddenly sprang back to life with a roaring anger. He locked himself in his lab then trashed it hours later when his experiment failed. He shouted at me, at his books, at any sound that disturbed him, at the newspaper, at the celebrations taking place, at the weather. Cutlery and plates were hurled against the wall. He ravaged his garden and medicinal plants. When he had finally exhausted his rage, he became the cold, unforgiving, unapproachable entity I have met when I entered Hogwarts.

Then he was arrested. He retained this dignified, proud defiance, a sneer marring his lip, his eyes unfathomable cold pits of blackness. I wept for the loss of the man I had come to treasure. They brought him to Azkaban and he said nothing. It took days before I finally came to the conclusion that Dumbledore would not go there without incentive. Couldn't he protect Severus once? Did everything had to be begged or bargained for? Oh, the sly old coot answered my owl and took time to see me. But the way he spoke of Severus, there was no warmth, no empathy. He was but a reformed Death-Eater, a tool to be used and abused but never, ever trusted. I was angry. He had made a grievous error, a lethal one, yes. He had blood on his hands, yes. He should repent and be punished for it, yes. But he wasn't a Malfoy who did it out of belief. He wasn't a Lestrange who did it out of twisted pleasure and cruelty. He had joined because he had seen no other way. And Merlin, hadn't he paid it back that year with the spying? Had Dumbledore no idea of the lengths Severus had gone to to bring back something? Did he not care? But my righteous outrage and pleas fell to deaf ears. No, Albus Dumbledore was above compassion for murderers. He preferred to bestow it upon those who had no need of it. And he had wanted me to join the Order? No way. Ironic how it was Severus the key player in all this war. The one who had been the most looked down upon, bullied, derided upon. The one nobody would side with, would listen to, would appreciate, recognize or reward. Ironic how he would be the spy, the one who brought dramatic events to come into play. How he would be the one to influence future events and other actors of this ghastly play. How his bravery and cunning will bring us victory. How his sacrifices and shame will bring Voldemort to his end. How his abilities and spells will impact on all. How his death will trigger Harry's will to face his archenemy.

.

.

.

Merlin help me, I had fallen in love with him.

* * *

A/N : Finally, she admits it. She is really good at denial. I had fun writing this. I hope it shows and that you liked it also.


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer : I own nothing. It all belongs to JK Rowling.

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 **Chapter 29, years 1981-1990 - part 1**

Everything went fairly quickly from then on. Once Severus got out of prison and employed indefinitely at Hogwarts, thus making him the youngest Potions Master since Merlin knows when exactly, he took up residence there permanently. We never really talked about it, it was self-evident from the start. We both knew Voldemort wasn't dead and it was obvious he wasn't trusted despite his Vow. I hated leaving him behind, surrounded by distrust and enmity, beset by bad memories, nightmares and regrets, suffocating in shame and guilt. He had lost everything. His freedom, his dreams, his expectations. He would never get the recognition he so strove for, he would never get his skills rewarded by a job he liked, he would never be allowed more than a tight leash. He was reformed but Lily was dead and he was even more shunned than before. Potter was dead and Sirius a wanted man but it didn't erase his previous suffering. The damage was done anyway, what was the point? He shut me out, as he had always done. Severus had always been very private, very secretive. He hates showing any kind of emotion, lest somebody uses it against him. We may be close, even intimate but it didn't mean he would bare his heart to me if he could avoid it. There was nothing I could say that would assuage his inner turmoil and there was nothing he was willing to let me do. Even less under the watchful eyes of his wardens who but a few years earlier had been his teachers and accomplices by negligence to the harassment he had to bear.

For my part, I was wallowing in guilt over the Potters' death. And the sudden revelation I had in Dumbledore's office a few weeks earlier had shaken me badly and left me breathless. This unexpected clarity was unwelcomed. Severus was beyond my reach in every possible way. I had never hoped to be more than close friends, his heart had been given to Lily and had disappeared with her. He would not love me. He would care for me and treasure me without a doubt. He was comfortable with me, respected my abilities, appreciated my input and opinions and found me enticing enough. I had made my peace with this situation as Ron was dead and I had been convinced I wouldn't love anyone else. Severus and I, we had an implicit arrangement with mutual benefits. Our friendship run too deep and had survived too much hardships to be endangered by quarrels and heated arguments, even by separation. But love? It should have never entered the equation. But it did. And what should I do with it? I couldn't reveal it to him— I would be embarrassed beyond belief and he would not take it well. He should be flattered I suppose but he wouldn't. I don't think he would believe me— such low self-esteem is rare. It is hardly possible to see it in Severus because of the public image he has created and takes great care into maintaining. But from his point of view, nobody ever appreciated him— not his parents, not his peers, not his teachers, not Lily, not even his fellow Death-Eaters. There was no reason his students or colleagues would, so why change now? No, no declaration of love would go well. It didn't resolve my dilemma. What do to now? Hopefully, my line of work required me to travel abroad. As soon as Severus was settled into the castle, I fled. It's not very Gryffindor but I felt oppressed and about to scream in frustration. I needed out and jumped on the first occasion. I cared little what I was sent to find nor where. I only cared that I would be Portkeyed to another country where I could have time and space to recover.

Months went by. I slowly managed to reconcile with the idea my love would forever be unrequited. I left behind my grief and guilt and spent some glorious years cavorting. I had fun working, developed healthy work relations, discovered many new spells and unearthed ancient books, made unfettered amities, had flings and one-night stands one after the other, never getting involved personally and leaving before anything could become serious. I looked for physical intimacy, not companionship. When I finally acquired the artefact, I usually brought it back to England myself and used the opportunity to meet Severus. He didn't fare well but was very apt at hiding it. He was wasting away in a job he disliked and that was obvious to anyone who cared enough to look. He showed up at my place very late in the night, after his nightshift had ended and when he had ruled out every other means to ward off the insomnia. We would debate and drink until the middle of the night. Sometimes we would just bask in the others' willing embrace and spent the time memorizing every scar, every inch of skin, every tingle as if it would be the last. Sometimes we merely fell asleep, comfortably cuddled against the other, breathing each other's unique scent and lulled by the thud of the other's beating heart. Sometimes we would talk until the early rays of sunshine. He would smile then, in the safety of my small flat. It wasn't the open laugh he had too rarely barked when we were still in seventh year. It wasn't the dazzling smile he had displayed when he had talked about his Apprenticeship, the joy and pride he had felt then. It wasn't the playful smirk he had flashed when he got the upper hand in a debate. His spirits were too dampened. But I got him to grin wanly or to smile slightly. I could get him to relax and share his burdens. I even managed to convince him to do research and publish the results. There really was no need to waste his talents thus. We talked about Voldemort— rarely about what had been but often about what was about to happen. We agreed he wasn't dead and debated what he would have to do once He came back. We talked about my work and about his dreams.

During the day when he was required at Hogwarts, I would search for the Horcruxes. I had looked for the diary then dismissed the search as inconsequential. I had no means to get it and it was too interwoven into the very fabric of Time to try to kill it. The same could be said for Marvolo's ring. I wasn't sure Nagini was a Horcrux yet and I could do nothing about Harry. That left three Horcruxes to take care of.

The locket was the easiest to get my hands on. I knew exactly where it was and who had it. It wasn't hard to Polyjuice myself as Sirius and order Kreacher to give it to me. Destroying it however wasn't such a small feat. Despite all the spells I had learned, I could not kill it. In a desperate act, I turned to Severus. I conjured a little white lie about an artefact which curse I had to break and went on listing all the spells I had tried fruitlessly. I do not know if I should feel very afraid or very awed by the sheer number and complexity of dark spells he mastered. Once destroyed, I put up a spell on it that wouldn't harm us like the real Horcrux did but it would still be troublesome to wear and gave it back to Kreacher to safeguard.

Ravenclaw diadem was hidden in the Room of Requirement. The major difficulty resided in getting into the castle. I adamantly refused to send Severus after it. He was too knowledgeable in the Dark Arts not to recognize the item for what it really was. I had no wish for him to delve into the matter because he would inevitably come to me and ask embarrassing questions I had no way to answer without revealing my true identity. And I wasn't ready for it. All the Founders help me, I don't think I would ever be ready to face the betrayal in his eyes, the abject misery in his voice and the outraged fury of his heart. And Merlin knew he didn't deserve the bitter taste of another grievous lie done to him. I had to get into Hogwarts and sneak into the Room of Requirements then to return either the diadem or a fake one once it was destroyed. A lot of work was waiting ahead for me. Creating another diadem wasn't all that difficult. I took out the sealed set of memories I had carefully hidden and extracted the one concerning it. I dove headfirst into it and was assaulted by the vivid quality of this memory. I had been right to copy and compile them. The last battle had been the first set I had done — I wanted them to be as accurate as possible and knew time would alter my memory. It was too much. I drew out. It took me several trips down memory lane before I was able to sustain it. Once located, I dug out the picture of the diadem and started work on a new object. It required hard labor and long hours, strenuous Charms and intense concentration. It would never be the little piece of art and amazing Magic that Rowena Ravenclaw did but it wasn't my purpose either. This small part of the feat took me months. Concerning the acquisition of the real one, I decided I would spring a surprise visit to Severus — assuming I secured Albus Dumbledore's consent. Yes, it would be much fun. I resolved to send a letter to the Headmaster to ask permission into Hogwarts for my next visit in England. It didn't happen for more than a year.

* * *

A/N : I know what you think : why hasn't she done this before ? Well, she needed to move freely and to destroy them without drawing Voldemort's attention so she waited for his "death". Because there was still a probability he would have made replacements. She was also focused on her own personal life and what happened with Severus. You might be wondering too why these changes are possible whereas other ones weren't. In fact in depends on her previous knowing of it - she didn't know the whereabouts of these Horcruxes, so she could do something about it.


	30. Chapter 30

Disclaimer : I own nothing. It all belongs to JK Rowling.

* * *

 **Chapter 30, years 1981-1990 - part 2**

I remember it well. It was spring and the air was crisp. The night and early morning had been freezing but by noon, it had considerably warmed. Scotland's weather however hadn't much profited from the mild spell as the wind was still quite chilly. But the air was pure and pleasant to breathe in fully. The sky was clear, the pale blue of winter and I could feel the sun on my face, warm and delightful. I offered my face to the weather on the way from Hogsmeade and closed my eyes. I felt good, relaxed and secure. I was happy at the prospect to see Severus. I smiled. I reached the gates and waited patiently until Albus came to meet me. I used the opportunity to look around. It hadn't changed and that was strangely comforting. I watched him come to me.

"Miss Barnett, welcome back." I inclined my head to the side slightly.

"Headmaster," I greeted. "It feels good to be here. Thank you for allowing me in. I'm very grateful indeed."

"The pleasure's all mine, my dear. Would you care for tea in my office?" he offered and I couldn't decline. What's more, I was feeling particularly charitable. We talked some more, from my job and travels to the difficulties of managing a school such as this one. We discussed politics and the Ministry's latest laws.

"I was quite surprised by your request," he finally said. "I didn't know you were still on speaking terms with Severus."

"This is understandable. We have after all done our utmost to hide our friendship from everyone and I've been spending more time abroad than in England since the end of the war."

"Why would you hide it? It is even more important to support friends during difficult times."

"Ah, headmaster," I whined. "I was sure you knew my position in the war." He looked at me calmly, the very face of patience. I smiled. The sly old fox knew the game well. I huffed in amusement and denial of his false ingenuity. "You were the Head of the Order of the Phoenix. You could ill afford an unbalanced equation or a wild card. You either needed to know where I stood or presume I was against you. Yet you could have asked Severus anytime. It's not like he can refuse to answer." Merlin, but he seemed offended.

"Severus isn't a prisoner. I value his input and trust his judgment."

"Please, spare me. I haven't come to pick a fight with you. We will never see eye to eye as far as he is concerned. But I'm convinced you've come to understand him a bit more despite his surly nature and have managed to glimpse what I've always seen in him. I'm quite sure evening meals and staff meetings have been much more entertaining since he has begun teaching." Albus sniggered and I laughed softly alongside him.

"True enough. The man has sarcasm in spades. And an impressive collection of books."

"As well as a sharp tongue and acute wit. Conversation is never dull with Severus."

"No it isn't," he agreed. "And you have steered ours astray," he added genially. I could indulge him.

"As you know, I had lost everyone before I arrived, friends and family alike. I was all alone and quite depressed. I couldn't relate to the other pupils — nor did I wish too. Their boisterous and carefree attitude irritated me to no end. I resented them. But Severus was different. I saw an echo of myself somehow, like a twisted mirror image. He was whole, not a child not yet a man but in his eyes, you could see he had witnessed more than he should have. The will to prevail, the quiet defiance, the burning fire that he kindled inside attracted me like a magnet. His wit, his intelligence, the sly streak of Slytherin — it was refreshing and stimulating to meet someone with such depth. And yet, despite all his skills and intellect he was downcast, subdued and unobtrusive. The vicious bullying he suffered— I could never stand unfairness. And to see someone with such potential be wasted because of others' petty jealousy and narrow-mindedness was intolerable. I simply couldn't stomach the pain and pleading in the dark intensity of his gaze."

He served me tea and I drank deeply. Nostalgia washed over me fleetingly.

" Years ago, long before I came here, I had already decided on my moral code of conduct, on the principles I would follow my whole life. Being free to choose my own fate is one. I have always and will always refuse to be coerced. I liked Severus when we were in sixth year as a fellow pupil who was interesting, different and not the shallow, insipid individuals the others were. The pressure they put on us only heightened my willingness to befriend him. And the more time I spent with him, the more I learned about him, the more I appreciated him. I can't in all honesty say I never wished to throw in the towel and care only about myself. I don't believe in blood purity — how could I? I'm Muggleborn myself. I don't believe either the world will be a better place with Voldemort in power. In fact, I'm inclined to the opposite. But I've always claimed I would support Severus. He is the only one I befriended and the only one I really, genuinely care about. I would never abandon him — I've made it abundantly clear time and again. Once given my loyalty is unwavering: I stayed when he took the Mark, despite my aversion to it and what it stands for. I stayed when he was a Death-Eater by choice, even though we spent more time fighting over it than not. I stayed when he relayed the Prophecy and I knew it would wreak havoc, that it would bring about dramatic consequences. Have you honestly believed I would leave him when he took the first right, honorable decision in years? Of course I stayed by his side. But I wouldn't endanger him. The position of a spy is precarious enough not to risk him uselessly. I could never forgive myself if he were hurt because I had been careless."

He watched me intensely, his hand caressing his white beard soothingly. I saw his eyes twinkle and lines of appreciation suddenly appeared around them. _Don't you dare say I love him_ , I mused and looked at him through narrowed slits.

"A sweet, my dear?" I snorted inelegantly. Conversation over. "Well, I thank you for this enlightening discussion. Shall I accompany you to Severus' quarters?"

"If I may, headmaster, I would very much like to wander the castle before. Would you be so kind as to give me directions to his quarters?"

When I finally knocked on the door to his office, I had the real diadem safely ensconced inside my voluminous robes while my false one had replaced the Horcrux inside the castle. It had been easy to find as I knew exactly what I was looking for. A simple Accio did it — as unbelievable as it seemed. Voldemort must have been especially arrogant not to put any wards around it. Child play, nothing more. All the better for me. I smiled as his vitriolic "enter" reverberated in the cold corridors of the dungeons. A grin stretched from ear to ear. It felt good to stand here, behind his door and without a single trace of fear or apprehension. What wouldn't I have given when I had been a child to be this relaxed here? How should I enter? He definitely was expecting a student and would be in bastard mode. Nothing less than true fear and submission was ever allowed inside his office. I was very much in the mind to deconsecrate it. Sweet Circe, had I become a Slytherin? I considered briefly barging it or blasting the door open with a spell. I settled for a quiet, dignified entrance.

"My, Severus, what a lovely tone to welcome your students."

His head swiveled to me abruptly and he immediately stood up.

"Hermione! I had no idea you were back." I huffed.

"Of course not, I purposefully kept it from you. Surprise!" I exclaimed joyfully.

"What are you doing here?"

"What do you think? I came for you of course. Aren't you going to show me around?"

"Hmph," he snorted. "You know the castle. State your business."

"Oh, come on. Don't talk to me like that, Severus. I wanted to see you and I wanted to see the castle. I wrote to Dumbledore and asked if I may visit you. He agreed. Let's not make a big deal out of it."

He went straight back to his work. I huffed.

"Don't be such a kill-joy Severus. I haven't seen you in months and you prefer to grade essays — most certainly incomplete, inaccurate and with poor grammar if I should judge by the amount of red ink on this one— than spend time with me? I'm hurt."

"I'm not going to indulge your childish amusement Hermione. I have work to do. You cannot have overlooked this is not holiday time. There are pupils prowling the castle left and right."

"And you surely must not be seen entertaining a woman. What will it do to your reputation, I must ask?" He put his quill down determinedly, steepled his fingers and devoted his undivided attention to me. "That's better," I teased. He sighed dramatically. "You know, if your students saw you with me, they might die of a heart-attack. Are you sure you don't want to stroll hand in hand around the lake?"

"Yes, I am quite sure, thank you," he sniggered. "But next time I want to rip one to pieces, I'll be sure to inform you that your assistance is required."

"Show me your quarters then. I am sure you can manage a few hours off your so busy schedule." An eyebrow lifted elegantly. "You have such a dirty mind Severus," I said with a slight undertone of reproach. The little devil smirked. I smirked back.

* * *

A/N : I had so much fun writing it. I love her when she's in playful mode. Severus should be eternally grateful to have her in his life.


	31. Chapter 31

Disclaimer : I own nothing. It all belongs to JK Rowling.

* * *

 **Chapter 31: November 1991 - part 1**

This was it. My very first day at Hogwarts. My Sorting. The day I've come to fear the most recently. Knowing we would need to have this conversation, I had asked to remain in England for the academic year and thus have been working at Gringotts for the Goblins. At least, I knew which vault was the Lestranges and what enchantments protected it. I've grown restless over the last weeks and refused to discuss it with Severus. What to say anyway? There was no way to soften the blow: I've kept my deepest secret from him for fifteen years. He would not take it lightly. When I felt the warm glow on my necklace, I knew he had understood. He'd always been too clever for his own good. As he did not yet know the whole extent of what he'll eventually consider a betrayal, he only sent me a brief note. No doubt he would soon be livid.

 _'We will talk about this later.'_

It wasn't a request. It was intimidation. But as loathed as I was to have this conversation with him — and make no mistake, I would never be ready for it— he had forgotten a key-point. I was not eleven anymore and I certainly was not afraid of him.

When he finally boiled over and stormed into my home, it was well after the troll incident. For all his subtlety and cunning, in his anger he was sometimes positively Gryffindor. I could add his bravery— far too Gryffindor for his liking and even his undying loyalty— so Hufflepuff of him. A thought to hold for sure if I ever wished for him to die of apoplexy.

"How _could_ you?" he hissed as the door slammed opened, bounced back on the wall and closed back forcefully. Ah, but this was not his Potion classroom…

No need to take the bait and answer in kind. I calmly closed my book and stashed it away. Away from harm. My fingers shook with nerves. I clenched my hands together and stood.

"How could I what?" I asked. "You will need to be more specific." And he really did need to. His exact point of anger was still to be determined. Was it because of the Time-Travel? Our friendship? The secrecy? My friendship with Harry Potter? My sorting into Gryffindor? I supposed it was all of that combined. And Severus has never been known for his meek temper. His demeanour changed abruptly from spitting anger to coldness. He all but glided towards me.

"Oh but I think you know— Hermione," he purred, his breath warm in my neck, his body overbearing mine. And the pause before my name was definitely intentional.

I grabbed the lapels of his teaching robes and kept him thrust against me. Under any other circumstances, it would have been terribly erotic. As it was, it was a simple matter of power struggle. How annoying he was so much taller than me. Getting on tiptoes, I angled myself closer to his ear.

"Your intimidation techniques do not work on me— Severus," I replied softly before biting lightly on his earlobe. He recoiled— as expected. "Now," I murmured "I'm willing to answer your questions. Sit down and ponder them while I make tea, will you?"

Oh, the distance would do us good. For one, it would give me time to compose myself. Was that stress, adrenaline or did that effectively turned me on? Strange thought to have before being ripped apart.

"We had a very special Sorting this year, I'm sure you're aware," he began calmly as I set the teapots and our cups on the coffee table. I sat down, folded my hands in my lap— wasn't that Professor McGonagall's favorite attitude?—and waited. "Hermione!" he prompted when it became clear I had no intention whatsoever to reply.

"Yes, yes, 1991, very special vintage what with Harry Potter and all that." He scowled. "Your own new— celebrity, is that right?" I added nastily, throwing back his own words to him. As if I'd ever forget my first Potion class. His growl was barely audible.

"You would not believe the repressed gasp at the High Table when a first year _Hermione_ was sorted into Gryffindor. Albus almost choked on his pumpkin juice. Stranger still, her brown bushy hair and over-eager, insufferable zealous attitude."

"I told you I was ready to answer your questions. Is there any coming or do I have to guess them?"

"I know you're one and the same. Explain," he all but demanded.

"Time-Travel. Have you never heard of it?" I offered unkindly. He glowered. "You would have been proud of me, you know. The only Potion I've ever managed to create and I can't even get any credit for it. Infiltrating and stealing from the Ministry of Magic— the very Department of Mysteries. Manipulating elves and petty thieves, skulking in disguise in Knockturn Alley, planning ahead like a true Slytherin. You have no idea the lengths to which I've gone."

Only a slight twitch in his eyes let on his anger. Unfortunately, this hadn't been sufficient to steer the conversation away.

"Why?" Despite his tone, the question was soft. My answer wouldn't.

"Because they won. Because the dilapidated body and tattered soul that is your Master won. Because he, with his degenerated followers won." I got up and started to pace. "They won and left only smoldering ruins and bloody corpses in their wake."

"So you decided to try fate and Time-Travel about twenty years earlier? Were you bloody out of your mind? You could have ripped the very fabric of Time!" He rose in outrage.

"And what was I do to? Hide? I tried. Go back to the Muggle world? I tried that too. Fly away to another country and hope the problem would disappear by itself? I had nothing to look up to. Only the memory of my loved ones. And that's not nearly enough to live on!" I had stopped pacing and was staring at him in the eyes.

"I don't care. You were reckless and risked us all for purely egotistic reasons. How Gryffindor of you."

Strange how he would bring up my Gryffindor traits; he hadn't noticed them once in fifteen years. But I wouldn't jump on this and let the rest of his accusation unanswered.

"Egotistic reasons? Are you even listening to yourself? You have no idea what it was like."

"Oh but I think I do, Hermione. Or have you forgotten I do belong to his degenerated followers?"

"Because you've attended the Bloody meetings, you assume you know better than I about that time?" I started walking again, my flailing arms betraying my inner turmoil. "Was he — at any time— lording over the school? The Ministry? Officially I mean? Have you had to report Muggleborns? To register yourself as a Half-Blood? Did you stand trial because you associated with me, who is a Mudblood? Have you ever taught the Cruciatus _on_ your students as means of punishment?"

"I would never—" he began.

"Oh, let me assure you, you _**will**_. But it is true that using detention to have students practice the curse on other students leave your hands cleaner."

He blanched. Small victory. A miracle he even let some of the impact of my words show on his face.

"You've lied to me. It's been years and not once have you said anything."

"Yes." Silence stretched.

"Well, I'm waiting."

"You'll have to wait more." I crossed my arms.

"I'm sorry?"

"I don't intend to let you in on anything. You know the paradox of time. Are you aware of fixed points in Time? It's an event or an individual who has such a long standing impact that it can't be altered without damaging reality or worse, shattering the continuum. I am not going to create even more of these points by babbling to you what I know. The consequences are far too-reaching."

"It's a bit late for that, don't you agree?" Pause. Silence. Uncomfortable silence, those Severus preferred. His posture stiffened abruptly and I was suddenly wary as I looked at him. This would not be pleasant. "You must have known about Lily. And you did _nothing_ ," he accused.

"I did nothing? Do you have any idea what it cost me to meet her? To convince her to meet _you_?" Hell, I had lowered myself to grant him the possibility of saying goodbye to the damn _love of his life_ and that was how he repaid me? "Do not throw her into the balance," I snapped. "The Potters' death are a fixed point in time. So decisive, so significant nothing could have prevented it. I chose to support you instead of trying in vain to prevent something that was meant to happen anyway. It had to happen."

"Was my Mark a fixed point too?"

"Yes," I hissed. "And even if it weren't, you were far too gone onto that path when I arrived. How could I ever hope to succeed where Lily failed? Or maybe you conveniently forgot the innumerable arguments we had until the very night of your initiation?"

"Let me get this straight," he began in a deceptively soft voice. "You Travelled backwards in time for reasons still undisclosed, hadn't managed to prevent me from taking the Mark, hadn't managed to save Lily, hadn't managed to put a stop to Him either. What the hell are you still here for if you can't make a damn wrong right?"

I clenched my teeth in seething anger. I knew he would be livid and vicious. Somehow, I even think I deserved it. But it hurt. This was the sort of argument that could tear apart a relation. And he was doing a bloody thorough job of it.

"And what am I, God? I've tried to be there for you. But maybe I shouldn't have bothered all things considered."

"Why have you come?" he whispered dangerously.

"I wanted to make a difference. A ripple strong enough to alter the course we were set on."

I could almost see the wheels turning in his head, at a furious pace. When his face became suddenly blank of all expression, I knew he had come to a conclusion I wouldn't like.

"And did you get what you wanted?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"You made preparations, you said so yourself. I can only guess you knew everything about everyone of us when you arrived. You stuck to me knowing I'd take the Mark. Do not insult me by pretending you didn't do it on purpose."

"As if I'd stick with you for so long just to further my own agenda."

"I think that's _exactly_ what you did."

That was a low blow. Using my feelings to give credence to his deluded theories, it was so like him I should have expected it. But somehow, a part of me hadn't wished to believe he'd stoop so low. Not with me at least. He hadn't until then. It hurt all the more.

But reality was even worse: that hadn't been his sole intention. Oh no, he did it purposefully to prevent me from blocking his next move. Knowing he had touched a nerve, knowing I'd be down and that I'd lower my defenses, he used the opportunity to move towards me inconspicuously. As I lifted my head up to meet his eyes and retort, I found him much too close for my liking. And he did the unforgivable. He Legilimensed me.

I knew he was not above such maneuvers. I knew him to be ruthless. He could show impressive fits of violence and cruelty. I just never thought he'd use these nasty abilities on me.

I felt him forcing his way in, forcefully pushing aside stray thoughts and relentlessly chasing after his points of interests. I could not force him out. I never had any training into Mind Spells and Mind Protection. But I was desperate to close my mind. He was not to see. He was not to know. It wasn't Time. Most importantly, I was enraged and appalled at his behaviour. What could I do? I saw harmless flashes of my youth go by. Ron's dazzling smile shot to the forefront of my mind and I almost sobbed. I had to hurry before too much damage was done.

A thought occurred, unbidden and I hold onto it tightly. I threw it at him. I reasoned that if I could not push him out, I could prevent him from seeing anymore if I chose a crucial memory, one that would block any other from leaking.

The memory of Voldemort and his horde swarming the grounds along with giants, Dementors and werewolves would finally serve a greater purpose: expelling Severus Snape from my head. I kept it at the forefront of my mind, reliving the sheer, absolute terror of my seventeen-years-old self, the unadulterated despair and hopelessness, the terrible awareness of my own mortality, the utter conviction we wouldn't win. I felt him falter— a flutter in my mind, a catch on my memory, an hesitation in my thoughts. Still he stayed inside.

I dredged up my worst memories— or rather the raw, gut-wrenching, excruciating agony following my friends' deaths. I felt my stomach turn again as I forced myself to bear these deeply-buried feelings. He should be lucky I didn't retch on his shoes there and then. His vicious search paused as he found mirrored feelings of his own after Lily's death. He dithered: these were my most personal feelings, the most secret, most hidden private hell. And he had no right to witness this without my consent. No right to be here. No right to partake in this. He knew it. I knew it. And still he refused to withdraw. I felt him rummaging again, albeit more calmly, more accurately, more cautiously.

If his damn Master wasn't enough, if my own torment wasn't sufficient, maybe a glimpse of his own violent death would finally shove him out. I didn't show him the circumstances. Not the place, not the time, not the people involved, not his Master. Only his broken body, blood and memories gushing away from him and my own unheard scream at this unbelievable scene. It worked. He pulled out. And I was too enraged to care what effect it had on him.

"This, "I began breathlessly, pointing " _this_ is unforgivable." A flicker of recognition flashed through his eyes. He knew he had done something terrible. "Well, you seem in a mood to share," I continued conversationally. "Care to tell me about your first kill? Was it a child? A woman? A man? Did you rape them before as per your Master's request? Has it felt good to deal the pain? Did you feel powerful enough? Did you gloat in your absolute domination of them? Did you imagine James Potter's face as you cast an Avada? How easy to cast the spell that ended this stranger's life? Were you so naïve to believe it would make the pain go away? Or easier to bear? Did it fill the void in your soul?" I droned on acidly, drilling the nail home, not minding he was fisting his hands so tightly they were shaking. "Answer me, damn you!" I yelled, an irrepressible sadness clogging my throat and I fought the urge to slap him senseless.

I saw his fury. The intensity in the depths of his darkened pupils. He was beyond mad. At me, at the circumstances, at my words, at himself, I did not know nor did I care. I myself could barely stand upright in anger.

"You have no right to talk to me like that," he whispered, white as hell. "Never again will you speak about this, you impudent girl."

"And you have no right to pry into my memories, to plunder my mind like you did. I will not cow down to you!"

"Get out. I can't handle you right now." _Or I might kill you_ , a detached part of my mind translated and supplied. No matter _he_ had come into _my_ home.

"All those years and you still don't trust me."

"And how right was I, wasn't I?"

"I've been nothing but loyal to you."

"To what end?" he snarled.

"Fuck you Snape!" I bellowed. "Do you think I planned on falling in love with you? Just my rotten luck! The first man I love dies and the second obsessively loves a dead woman! I've never been more than a convenient friend with benefits for you. If you think for one second I had it all easy then think again and think _HARD_."

We stood only a few feet apart but an impassable abyss laid open between us. In the space of half an hour, we had managed to hurt each other utterly and indelibly. He had reduced me to an emotional wreck, laying my deepest feelings and secrets bare and trampling them without any concern for me. I felt naked— ashamedly so.

We stood there, both panting slightly, trying to reign in our racing wrath and to repress the emotions drawn out in the open.

How we would ever mend the rift I had no idea. I was parched. Only the need to curl up and cry myself to sleep remained, so strong my feet took me automatically towards the front door, unconsciously withdrawing from the stifling flat, breaking away from this highly abusive argument. I was halfway through my sitting-room when he spoke. I hadn't expected him to.

"Hermione."

I stopped but refused to face him. Common sense told me I shouldn't turn my back on him. Common sense also told me not to look him in the eyes when I face him. Common sense go hang itself, I wouldn't turn. It was hard enough to keep my tears in check. I would not cry in front of him. I hadn't shown him my tears since my fourth year. I would not break my promise now. I fisted my hands inside my robes until they hurt.

"Hermione, look at me."

For the love of all Magic, no.

"So you can Legilimens me, again? So you can humiliate me further? No thank you, I think I'll pass."

"If you leave now, we'll never be able to move past this."

I started. This was unexpected. He wanted to make peace with me? Maybe he had learned something from Lily's disavowal after all.

Did I wish to settle the argument? Undeniably, yes. Could I forgive him? Given time, yes. Did I want to? Yes. Did I turn around? Hell, no. He was a Slytherin. The Head of that nest of vipers. I didn't trust him one bit.

"I can't deal with your accusations and sarcasm right now. Keep that sharp tongue for yourself until you're willing to truly talk. I want to be alone."

"I was wrong to intrude on you."

That was as close an apology as I would ever get from him. It was not nearly enough. I scoffed.

"An understatement."

"You were wrong to lie to me."

He never let go, did he?

"That is not an excuse for what you did." I paused. "Let's say I had been honest— for the sake of argument. You would have sneered, turned away and shut me out irremediably. After directing me to St Mungo's for delusion."

I heard the sole of his shoes creak as he came closer. I fought the urge to flee. I almost succeeded in repressing my flinch when he put his hands on my shoulders to turn me around. He tensed. Of course he would have noticed. Miraculously, he refrained from commenting. Now that my body had betrayed me, there wasn't much I could do in terms of defiance apart from averting my gaze. Which I did. Resolutely.

"You're not a friend with benefits."

It seemed so untrue I wanted to laugh my head off. Instead, I settled for facts.

"And your Patronus has suddenly changed, has it?" His grip on me tightened. Not painful. Not a caress either. "I am not a fool Severus. You have the same Patronus as Lily. You turned spy for her. You took a bloody Vow for her. You will lay your life for Harry if need arose because he is _her_ son. You died thinking of her. I knew it when I Travelled. Believe me, I had no intention whatsoever to fall for you. I knew there would only be pain that way." I looked at him then, looked him in the eyes, long and hard. "I have _not_ forgotten it along the way. You can deny it all you want Severus. Whatever helps you sleep at night. But there is _no way_ you'll convince me of your delusions. I stayed with you," I paused, the words becoming harder to say yet again, "in full knowledge of this. I am many things— liar may be one of them. But I've always been loyal. To my friends first. Now to you. Turning my feelings against me is a very coward way of winning an argument."

"I am not a coward."

"Yet you used a coward's method. I understand you're mad at me. You're entitled to. But using my feelings against me, feelings that are painful enough when left unsaid, unaccounted for and ignored, dredging them up so I'd lower my defenses and you can rape my mind? I thought better of you."

He let go of me suddenly and I felt cold. Colder than the loss of his body warmth should have caused.

"I've always loved Lily," he confessed.

Oh, so I could get even colder. Strange how it feels when one's heart break again. It does not make a single sound. It should. There should be a loud thudding, an explosion, a sudden shout. Something. Anything. It should be reflected in the world around. Should make the house shake as my hands. Should have the floor give way under my feet, much as my legs were suddenly failing to hold my weight correctly. Should have the walls crumbling as my façade was. Should have time stop, like the beating of my heart. But no. I could still hear the tick of the clock. Colours and smells were the same. The ceiling didn't fall on us, the floor didn't drop down. The sun still shone and Earth still rotated on its axis while my own heart shriveled and died silently in my chest.

"I turned for her and I'll protect her son in honour of her memory," he continued unperturbed, not even noticing I was only holding myself up by sheer determination. "I don't expect my Patronus to change either. And I can't stand your younger self." He looked at me and all my willpower was spent into straightening up and giving my greatest performance. "But you're wrong on one point though." He paused. Long. He had always leant towards he dramatics and the theatrics. But I would not give him the satisfaction of showing impatience. I stared at him, jaws clenched. "You are not a friend with benefits."

Silence stretched. I had to back myself against the wall for support. This matter needed to be resolved soon because I couldn't take much more.

"Do you think I would have tolerated your presence in my house? Your sarcasm? Do you believe I allow anyone to speak their mind as freely as you do?"

It was true. His wards allowed me whatever the time. I had unlimited access to his lab. And it had always been so. I always said what I thought— and I am not always very diplomatic either. I had been vindictive, mean and acidic more than once yet I was still alive to testify Severus Snape could allow it. If he so wished. So, yes, in retrospect, he had included me in his life, allowed me into it. Does it make me more than a friend he shagged? Not necessarily.

Oh, but the little sneak knew me well. I'm quite sure he followed my logic on my facial expressions. He might even have used a touch of Legilimency or any other spell he had up his sleeve. He frowned and his face darkened.

"Or maybe you assumed I would bed any woman willing to?" he asked softly, too softly for it to be innocent.

"I never said you don't find me pretty enough."

I was pushing it. I could get away with much. He trusted me so. But doubting him? I knew it wasn't a safe course of action. But, hey, he's just done the same, hasn't he ? A small voice was screaming inside, telling me in no uncertain terms to stop, witnessing with wide horrified eyes, knowing he would crush me and tear me apart in a few seconds now. And still I stood, chin high to meet his eyes defiantly. But no blow fell, only his hair that suddenly hid his face from me. Something minute changed and I couldn't say what for the life of me. His posture, the tension in his muscles, the leg on which he put his weight, the way a lock of hair wafted with his breath maybe. Anger bled away from him to be replaced by a calculating coldness. And yet he stood in perfect, immaculate, unyielding control.

"It's been years Hermione. When did you intent to talk about this?"

 _What?_ My mind drew to a halt. Of all the things to say, to ask, to wonder, that's what he settled on?

"Never," I answered in brutal honesty.

"And, pray tell, whyever not?"

"What could it accomplish Severus? Apart from a very awkward conversation? How uncomfortable do you wish us to feel next time we sleep together ?"

"So you chose to let the ghost of Lily fester between us like an untreated wound?"

Should I point out it had never seemed to bother him before? Probably not.

"She may have moved on to the afterlife but she's still very much present in your life. Nothing will change this. Why shouldn't I deal with this as I see fit? How your memory of her impacts on me and how I cope with it is my prerogative only. It shouldn't concern you and I really have no wish to discuss this further with you. Accept things as they are because there is no way to change them. Accept this situation and do _not_ address it. That is the only thing I ever asked of you. Is it really too much to ask Severus?" Merlin, I was down to pleading. How much more humiliating was this meeting going to be before it finally, finally ended?

"I didn't know you were such a coward, Hermione. And you don't know me well if you expected me to drop it."

"Problem is, I knew you wouldn't," I muttered. His sudden glare confirmed he had heard every single word.

"You're not Lily and you'll never be Lily—as I'm perfectly aware. But you're special in your own way." He seemed to falter, pondering his next words. "And I care for you."

That was as close a declaration of love as he was ever going to give. His actions were infinitely more telling than his words but it was still more than he had actually said these last years. It was still far from I love you. But I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth; his words were soothing.

"I know you do," I answered and the matter was settled, despite my still hurting heart and his on-going anger.

"So," he began after a few minutes as he sat back on my couch and began to pour us both tea again. "What about those other secrets of yours?"

* * *

A/N : It took me ages to write. I wrote it, then deleted part of it to write it all again from the start. I'm rather prone to anger myself and usually find it quite easily to write but this chapter got seriously out of hand rather quickly. They were so volatile, both full of righteous anger and nerves and distress… It wouldn't come out right in words. Finally, it was satisfactory to me. I hope it was good enough for you also. I'd really like some feedback on it if you have time and feel inclined to review.

It's huge too. But don't get used to it, I very rarely manage big chapters like this one.

 **Gabytahijar** , I inserted some details in this chapter as we talked about a few chapters back. Is it enough ? I hope you'll like it, really.


	32. Chapter 32

Disclaimer : I own nothing. It all belongs to JK Rowling.

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 **Chapter 32: November 1991 - part 2**

My eyes widened and I stumbled on my way to the couch.

"You know I can't tell."

"So— you do keep some from me."

"I left about a year after my seventh year. Of course I do keep secrets. If I ever tell, what mayhem may I cause?"

"What do you hope to achieve if you do not take any risk?"

"My first self wanted to go into law, to fight prejudices. I chose a more hands-on field." I stopped there. I could impart with him some of my knowledge. Some scraps of information that could help without really modifying anything. But how much did I wish to share? "What do you know about Horcruxes, Severus?" He frowned.

"Not much. It's a very obscure branch of the Dark Arts. One best left to the dusty, moth-eaten books of abandoned libraries."

Loosely translated into casual talk, he knew everything about them except, most probably, the way to create them. It certainly made things easier.

"I'm a curse-breaker, Severus. Or did you forget?" A pause.

"You're hunting it." He declared. Not a question. An observation.

"It? Oh no." I laughed and his face darkened. "Them." He frowned, clearly disbelieving my words. "We're talking of your Master, Severus. Did you honestly assume one would suffice him?"

"So. He made several," he thought aloud. "No wonder he's so disfigured. I have wondered…" His words lapsed into silence as his mind set to work.

I've always loved seeing him cogitate. A frown. An errand obstinate lock of hair falling over his eyes that he would irremediably flick out in silent annoyance. A slight twitch on his right fingers, as if he counted invisible numbers. A slight darkening of his pupils. A stillness, a stiffness in his stance that happened also when he felt threatened. A look of utter concentration, his face devoid of outward expression. Then he looked up at me.

"Merlin, he made seven, didn't he?" He had done some Arithmancy too after all. I inclined my head. "And you've been tracking them. You're trying to destroy them beforehand."

"10 points to Slytherin." His eyes narrowed. "However, I can't do much. Two of them I don't know the source and will have to appear as they did in the first timeline. Two, _I_ am not meant to destroy. And one I've been waiting for years to get to it. It should be almost time now." I sighed. "Maybe you could even give a hand in this. If we plan this carefully enough." I sipped my tea and found it cold. Revolting. I've always hated cold tea.

"Do you know why we failed?" I asked conversationally, breaking the silence that had settled upon us. His dark orbs bore into me but he offered no explanation of his own. Did he bite his tongue to prevent himself from lashing out about Gryffindor's stupidity and lack of subtlety? Maybe. Most probably.

"We were children. Unprepared. Terrified. And alone, with no plan of action, no idea as to what we should do or where we should go. We had nowhere to go, no prearranged safe place to crash, even for a night. We were barely seventeen and in the thick of war. On our own. We didn't even all manage to get our Apparition license."

"Surely Albus told Potter."

I snorted. A highly derisive, angry, disappointed sound. He seemed surprised. I wonder why since I've never shown any admiration for him.

"You know how he is. He keeps to himself important pieces of information because he assumes it will benefit the greater number, no matter the cost to a few. No matter the cost if it plays a part in his grander scheme." I paused and words sunk in. "He told Harry just enough for him to feel included but not enough to help him. We had no fucking idea what we were doing. And it got us killed." My gaze locked on his, driving the faraway look from my eyes. "Well," I amended "I survived obviously. Physically at least."

He gave me a strange, undecipherable look. It was very late and I was far too exhausted to try to read him. All my energy had been spent in the phenomenal row we had earlier and my feelings were crawling just under my skin. I only wished for a hot bath, a comfortable bed and a good book. A cuddle would be nice. Something to take the edge off this disastrous evening.

"Death looked far more inviting." I elaborated. "More than once."

"I understand." He finally said. "The yearning to let go but the drive to continue the fight, to do something right in memory of loved ones. Something they would be proud of. I understand."

"Yes," I answered. "Yes, you do. The others— they are oblivious. It seems sometimes they forgot what it felt like to mourn. They go on about memory and moving on and not forgetting. But it's like _they_ forgot. The sickness, the asphyxia, the knot in the stomach— always present, reminding you of what was lost, of that which will never be again. Like they forgot the restlessness, the sleepless nights, the urge to get revenge, the hate. The need to do something. To cry and scream and tear apart those who dare still live. But I didn't forget, Severus. I moved on. I pushed on by sheer willpower, spurned by a growing urge to make those responsible pay. No, I didn't forget. I only buried the memories deep inside. But they will pay. And I cannot stand witness to the others' sanctimonious outrage and talk of morals and the damn _right thing to do_. I want them to pay. I want them to suffer. And I want Him to die, painfully, knowing he lost, knowing you spent half your life betraying him. I want Him to die because I destroyed his little tokens. I want Him to fall to his knees and beg for his miserable, wretched life. And I want to be there when Harry finally deals the last blow. And laugh openly and gloat. Because this time around, he will win. I swear, I'll make sure it happens."

"This is the curse of those, like us, who know too much. Too bright, too astute. We perceive and experience what the others only hear about. We stand witness to the cruelty of the world, to the darkness in the human heart. For Light to be, there must be darkness somewhere. For morals to exist, there need wretchedness to compare. This is not a blessing. But it is only a curse if you chose it to be so. We are smarter than most— we can model these deficiencies, these faults and turn them to our advantage. Years ago, you told me I had the skills to fulfill my purpose. You have those necessary for yours. I see now that the child under my care is not you. She is too good, with a Manichean approach. You do not. You have, most importantly, the will, the cunning, the planning, the vindictiveness of a Slytherin. And these are the traits that will save your life."

Strangely, his words comforted me. It was testament of how alike we've grown and how well we knew each other that we could switch from ripping our throats to soothing each other in the same hour. However weird, we resolved our quarrel, accepted and forgave its violence and moved on to support each other, as we had done time and again over the last decade. Severus Snape, despite all his failings, was indeed loyal to a fault.

* * *

A/N : Just to be clear, this is what I had in mind :

"Two of them I don't know the source" : Marvolo's ring + Nagini (I'mnot sure exactly when he made her a Horcrux)

"Two, I am not meant to destroy" : Harry + Jedusor's diary

"One I've been waiting for years to get to" : the Cup of Hufflepuff (Gringotts)


	33. Chapter 33

Disclaimer : I own nothing. It all belongs to JK Rowling.

* * *

 **Chapter 33 : 1991 - november 1994**

I resolved to spend two more years hunting artefacts abroad. I needed to get my mind of the rift that had been created since my true identity and subsequent lie had been revealed. Of course, we had cleared the air but it would resurface from time to time. Leaving aside the awkwardness that oftentimes settled between us. I had deeply hurt him and he rarely lost the opportunity to remind me in his own convoluted way. I was at a loss with him. He understood I couldn't disclose what would happen. He understood things might already have changed. He understood I hadn't been able to disrupt the major, regrettable and misguided events of his life. He knew but he couldn't accept. And there was nothing that I could do or say to take away his pain, lessen my guilt or repair the damage to our relationship. Time would mend it. Time and distance. So I gave in and left him to his troubled thoughts. I knew he had finally bonded with Albus— the two of them had managed to trust and appreciate each other at least as much as could be possible under the circumstances shackling Severus to him. He valued Professor McGonagall for her acute mind, sharp tongue and sternness. He seemed to tolerate Professor Vector— he had told me once or twice about a few heated debates that had made his eyes glisten with suppressed mischief. He had several researches ongoing that enthralled him and a publication to finish. Most certainly, he was in good hands and in no dire need of friendship. And yet, I was reluctant to let him go still mildly angry against me. We had quarrelled before but he had usually been the one at fault. I didn't know what I should do. So I fled. I hid away, submerging myself in work, tackling difficult curses, facing desert and jungles alike, committing myself to curse-breaking and stifling my feelings into meaningless flings from which I always emerge slightly worse for wear. I bid my time, waiting for Severus to grind his teeth on his hurt pride and finally come to acceptance. When my fourth year at Hogwarts began, I was on edge. I knew what was going to happen. What should I do? All the doubts I had harboured during the war resurfaced tenfold. Should I inform Severus? What if I could prevent his return? Was it worth the risk?

 _We need to talk_.

He slammed the small missive on my kitchen table, right before my eyes.

"I'm listening." Merlin, how more callous could he be?

"Morning Severus," I snapped. Nothing good can come out before I have a coffee and nothing on Earth would prevent me from having my morning coffee before this conversation. I took my sweet time drinking it out of spite. He glowered but remained silent. There wasn't much ill-will in his gaze. Mostly, he was uncertain as I hadn't specified the topic. And an unsure Severus meant a defensive one. I had nothing to fear from him. I decided to be direct. It didn't matter now that I had made my mind up to change the future significantly.

"Are you hosting the Triwizard Tournament this year?" He nodded. "I don't know how to go about this Severus. What if I shouldn't inform you?" He breathed in then exhaled slowly. His irritation had ebbed away. This was a serious conversation and I knew he would deem it as such.

"You're about to tell me something about the future, aren't you?" I nodded miserably. "Yet you've never done it before. It would have been useful."

"I'm sorry. I know you would have appreciated the input and a lessened stress. But if the events were threatening, there was nothing dramatic. Quirrell was found out and Harry discovered He cannot touch him physically. The Basilisk had been killed, the diary destroyed— one less that I couldn't kill beforehand myself, and no one was killed. Ginny— she will grow and mature from this. Harry will need her one day. And her dabbing into the Dark Arts will help her help him— if that makes sense. And I'm sorry for stealing from you store. Third year — you understand now the appreciation I have of Time-Turners. I've used them before. I made the choice not to save Sirius from Azkaban years ago. I have always believed Harry connected so strongly with him because he had been unable to care for him before. I would have liked to change his fate. But I chose to help model Harry into the person he might need to become. And I'm terribly sorry that we Stunned you. You didn't deserve it but we didn't know better and they had always been very distrustful of you." I shot him an apologetic look but I only saw a raised eyebrow in a silent _no kidding?._ "I wonder — Pettigrew escaped this time around again, didn't he? Maybe I should have told you."

"This is all fair and good but no apology will really cut it. Why have you suddenly decided to get out of your muteness? And could you please stop ranting and be concise ? "

"Because in my lifetime, someone died." He sobered instantly. "Did Harry got into the competition?"

"Of course," he snarled. "Potter has such a liking of celebrity. He basks in it."

"No, he really doesn't. He hates it. But like you, he has a role to play and maintain."

"Then he shouldn't have cheated to enter the Tournament."

"Please. As if you've believed one instant he was able to get around the firewalls." His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"In fact, I've suspected you to be the culprit," he admitted. I laughed softly.

"I wasn't that good, Severus. Not at fourteen. But I thank you for the vote of confidence. Moody got him in. Or maybe I should say, the person posing as Moody."

"I can't do much with the data you're giving me Hermione. What do you expect me to do? Uncover him by shaking him senseless? I can't deal him Veritaserum or curse him in the corridors. And if I go to Albus, he'll ask for proof."

"I know that!" I exclaimed in frustration and rubbed a hand on my face tiredly. I felt a headache building up and it was nine in the morning. "Your Mark is getting darker, isn't it?" He frowned. "You understand what it means, right?"

"I was hoping I was wrong." I snorted.

"Unfortunately, you're not. The Tournament is only an excuse to get to Harry. He needs him. Anybody else present will be killed without a thought."

"What are you hoping for Hermione? The boy does not trust me. I can't do more."

"Then you must prepare for His return Severus. If you can't thwart His plans, if you can't manage to get Albus to heighten the security in the Labyrinth, if Moody can't be revealed as a fraud, then you must spare yourself. Create memories that will allow you to survive. Spin the most intricate web of half-truths and white lies that will keep you alive. Bury all that would show your loyalty to Albus, all your hopes that He was dead. Spread connections wide, revive your Death-Eater persona, favour your Slytherins even more if need be. I don't care what you do but stay alive. And keep Cedric Diggory alive if you can."

"So He will return during the last task and kill Cedric Diggory, is that it?"

"You will be tasked to spy again. What you will be asked to do by them both, Severus—" I stopped and looked outside, not able to sustain his intense gaze. "It breaks my heart." I felt tears prickle my eyes and struggled to contain them. I brought forth all the anger I had believed long gone. "I hate them." I declared.

"Don't," he said calmly and put his hand on mine. "We always knew the day would come. We both know the price to pay for taking the Mark."

"Don't be so quick to defend Albus. You don't know his price yet."

"It will be worth it."

"NO!" I shouted. "It will never be _worth_ it. He should never ask this of you. Never." I sighed. "We'll cross this bridge once we get there. There is still an off-chance you can prevent his rebirth. Stalk Moody. Talk to Albus about him, about his flask and about the darkening of your Mark. Tell him Harry would never have been able to get his name into the cup. Tell him to increase security. I understand you can't tell about the Labyrinth. But I can tell you."

He listened intently. I was crossing every line and threatening everything. I shouldn't tell him so much. In fact I shouldn't tell him anything. But I couldn't bear the thought that he would risk his life again. I had Travelled to save Harry and Ron but it's been so long. Merlin, they were a lifetime away from me. They would never be mine again. Severus— Severus had become my focus. I loved him. I shouldn't have fallen in love with him but I had. And I didn't want this man to suffer again. I wanted him safe and content, alive and well. I wanted to have him in my life and in my bed. I didn't want to wait anxiously for his return. I didn't want him to play the Death-Eater. I didn't want him to murder Albus. I didn't want him to have to be the bad guy again. I wanted to spare him the distrust, the loneliness, the hate. I shouldn't tell him the future. But I was frantic.

"The trophy, it's going to be a Portkey. Harry will suggest to Cedric that they take it together since he shouldn't have even entered the contest. They will be transported in a cemetry. Cedric will be killed. And Harry— Harry will be used as potion ingredient. He will duel your Master and escape with Cedric's body. But Harry will never be the same after this. And you will be made as cannon fodder again. I don't care what state of worry Albus will be in because he will sent you back no matter what. And I will fear for you again. Please Severus. I'm not lying. This year, my fourth year— Voldemort will be corporeal again. It will be the beginning of the end. And it didn't end well the first time. It didn't end well at all."

He took me in his arms and I cried.

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A/N : She could have done much more before. I know. But she chose not to - believing it was a wiser course of action to move things slowly, to take into account every consequence any change might lead to. And in the meantime, she had to deal with the deaths of her friends and family, accept the finality of her own decision and fell in love with Severus Snape. Maybe the least wise choice she could have made. At this point, she doesn't want to lose him. It is understandable, no ? So she's not always very reasonable. Or sensible.


	34. Chapter 34

Disclaimer : I own nothing. It all belongs to JK Rowling.

 **A/N** : Guest, I admit you are right. Canon-Hermione would most certainly not have done this. She would have raged and tried her best and read as many books as she could land her hands on to find another way. However, she travelled backwards in time. And time travel implies that what happened and is known as fact cannot be changed. The Potter's death is written in books (in the story itself) and Harry's nightmarish childhood is known by enough people that it has become a fixed point in time. At least as far as I understand it, and admittedly, it might not be that much. You also forget a tiny little detail. This is fanfiction, and as such, I am not bound to follow the canon, even if I try to stay as true to it as I can. I'm sorry you're disappointed, really. I can even understand it. But there is no need to yell at me.

* * *

 **Chapter 34 : 1994 - 1998**

I can't believe I actually wanted to be right when I was a child. Despite my warnings, my fourth year had been a disaster. Severus hadn't managed to prevent anything. Of course he had followed my advice but Albus needed more proof than Severus' subtle hints and misgivings. And thus, the war began again. I remained in England and worked as an independent. Bill had been employed by the Goblins, I wanted to avoid a confrontation at all costs. My teenage self looked too much like me and Bill would have understood immediately. I could not meet him. As for Severus, I had known nothing beforehand of his missions for Voldemort. He didn't offer any detail but he asked me to wear again the necklace I had made for him so many years ago. He usually spent the night after a meeting at school since he always debriefed with Albus and send me a small note to let me know he was safe and sound at the castle. The next night would generally be spent in my flat.

I tried to help him with any other kind of future events. I told him about the attack on Arthur Weasley. I also requested a sample of every potions they gave Arthur. I had always been absolutely sure I could help Severus better if I knew what they had used to heal Arthur. I told him about Harry's vision and the subsequent Occlumency lessons which would be a dire failure. I informed him that Harry would look into his Pensive and that whatever he had seen, it had changed his opinion on his father and not for the best. I talked about Umbridge, not that he needed the information to understand the Ministry was interfering. I told him about the Department of Mysteries. Help came more quickly but that was about all the good it did. I took the opportunity to ask Severus to teach me all the Healing spells he knew or had created.

Then it was the dawn of sixth year. I personally chose to disappear and went off the radar completely. I told him to be wary. I told him about Draco - that he would be required to take the Mark and come back to Hogwarts as a Death-Eater. But would he listen? Of course not. He argued that his Dark Master would not brand a child under Dumbledore's supervision, that it would be foolish to make such a rash move. Yet he came back to me a few weeks later, when the coast was clear and explained he had been cornered into an Unbreakable Vow to dispel Bella's doubts to have some wiggle room. I told him about Draco's task. There was no need to hide it from him. I also told him about Albus' shrivelled hand and he looked at me, sadness waging in the depth of his eyes. He already knew. We made love that day and spent the day in my bed, hiding from the harsh reality and even harder tasks ahead of him. We forgot the war and despair, the misery and death. How I wanted to plead with him to flee, to run away with me and leave them all behind. But he wouldn't. And he would have resented me for even thinking it. So I kept silent and tightly locked my pain and anguish in a dark corner of my mind.

With Severus' help, I had managed to procure the last Horcrux I could destroy; the cup of Hufflepuff. He had provided me with a hair from Bellatrix and while he kept her busy, I used Polyjuice to be granted access to her vault. I had made preparations to foil the jinxes among which a broom to avoid touching anything as the cup was out of reach and a bag to deposit it. It had been so much easier than flying back out riding an enraged dragon. Not as dramatic but not as life-threatening either. As the year went on, my distress increased and Severus withdrew to the point when I could barely get through to him. The grim prospect of killing the man who had helped him redeem himself, who had become his friend, the only one who had always declared loud and clear he had his full trust was daunting. He wondered once, if that had been the price I had once talked about. If only it had been the most his Masters had asked out of him. But becoming Headmaster after killing Albus— it would be worse. The daily reminder, the hate, the fear. I gagged.

I remember the day when the Headmaster told him about Harry's role in the war. I understood then why my best friend had willingly come to Voldemort and offered himself up to the Killing curse. He had seen himself as a mere sacrificial lamb— as he had always believed his life would end along a confrontation with Voldemort, by his hand most probably. And he had hated it so much, knowing all his life was but a fleeting moment, that he was but a passing butterfly who could cause a hurricane. Knowing him as I do, he had felt obliged to go down there, deep in the forest, far inside the lair of his arch enemy. But he hadn't come back alive in my timeline and I could do nothing to make sure he would survive. I had to believe in him, believe he would find enough to live for. But I could make sure his sacrifice would not be in vain. I could make sure He and his blasted snake died. As for Severus, to say he was angry at first would be a major understatement. He was simply livid, the mouth-frothing, spitting mad type of anger. It took him days, at the bare minimum, to accept the grim reality as true. That I dared concur about his scar being a Horcrux hadn't helped. I told him how Harry died and we discussed the ins and outs of the situation at hand, trying to make the most of it in advance, planning and scheming in the privacy of my flat.

For example, I had to think of a way to make Harry, Ron and my younger self know the Cup had been destroyed. I didn't know how the events would unfold. So much had happened around this event. We had come at Hogwarts after Bellatrix tortured me and Dobby had died. Griphook had betrayed us and stolen the sword which had then disappeared as he died. Good grief, what a mess. How to tell us the Cup wasn't a problem anymore? How to dissuade us to go looking for it? What to do with the sword? What should I do about Griphook? So many questions, so many paths. Which was the best?

Seventh year. Severus outright refused that I stayed with him in Hogwarts. I argued, I pleaded, I quarrelled, I raged, I cried. To no avail. Despite everything, despite the hardships, he didn't want me there. He was wholly aware of what it entailed to return as a traitor and a murderer. He knew what to expect. And he went there, proud and defiant. Merlin how arrogant and full of himself he can appear when he wants to. I knew it was a façade. I knew he had erected strong Occlumency shields, that he had all emotions, all feelings, all dreams and hopes on lockdown, buried so deep they were non-existent. All his being was focused on winning this war. Nothing and no-one would prevent him from fulfilling his task. He was a man with a mission and even I had no say. These were his last cards and he fully intended to play them well even if it meant his honor or his life. For such a proud man, he was able to debase himself to an extent bordering on self-destruction. Nobody has given as much as he did during this war because he did it willingly, knowing all the whys and wherefores, knowing what it would cost him in terms of physical and emotional health. I admiredhis dedication. I admired his bravery and self-denial. But I feared for him. I feared for his life which I knew to be forfeited. I feared for his state of mind. I feared for his health— how much more could he endure? How much longer before his body gave way? He had thinned again— most probably he barely ate. He suffered from insomnia before this mess. Had he become addicted to Dreamless sleep or did he spent his hours brewing and scheming, without any consideration for his health? How long can the body go without a decent amount of sleep?

I poured over ancient tomes and medical books. I devoured healing spells and used leather to learn stitches. I experimented to harden veins— the butcher was very friendly to me, I had spent a lot of money at his shop. I learned all Muggle and Wizards alike knew about the carotid artery because Nagini didn't only poison him—she ripped his throat and he bled to death. I tried and tried and spent all the free time I had working on it. I brewed so many Blood-replenishing potions I could sustain St Mungo's demand for a whole month at the very least. I had also brewed some Draught of Living Death because his condition will be so critical, there was no way I could treat him in the Shack quickly enough. Paste against bruises and burns, salves for the scars, strong Calming draughts, Essence of Dittany to regrow the skin more quickly around the wound, some Felix Felicis for both our sake because we will both surely need it badly. Potions to give him energy, to ease the pain, to protect his vocal chords, to fight the fever, to ease the headache. I had the best anti-venom possible, had modified or created spells to protect his throat— hardening the skin rather than the membrane of the artery itself but not turning it into stone because Voldemort need to believe him on the brick of death, isolating the puncture wounds to coat them with a kind of magical glue that I had processed from a plant I had come across abroad during a search after an ancient artefact. The local shaman had agreed to initiate me into the secrets of their medicinal plants. I had brought back home, planted, grown and nurtured them with much care and love, knowing one might one day save Severus' life. I had no idea what I could do more.

I turned my attention to the unfolding of events. We had fled already— the wedding had been defiled. We had found my false locket at Grimmauld gone and had infiltrated the Ministry, narrowly escaping Umbridge. My mild curse seemed to do the trick and Ron had left, the strain of the war, the splinching, the fear, the lack of comfort, his insecurities and jealousy having made him explode. I knew he would regret it the instant he left my wards. I followed them from afar —to see myself and my friends after almost two decades was both completely surreal and hardly bearable. I saw Harry and I in the throes of despair after his departure. I watched as we continued on bravely to Godric's Hollow, as Harry visited his parents' grave and gathered himself, as we met and naively followed Mrs Bagshot. I left before things turned badly and went straight to Severus. I urged him to go to the Forest of Dean with me to cast his Patronus and leave the Sword with us— the portrait of Phineas had ratted us out already but a bird in the hand is better than two in the bush. We spelled a small parchment to magically appear in my younger self's hands that stated the cup had been taken care of. I watched as Ron found us with the Deluminator, saved Harry and I dealt him one of the most satisfying slap I was ever granted to give. I can still remember the dull throb in my hand. It had felt so good. I followed our adventures as we visited Luna's father, escaped, got captured by Snatchers. I Apparated to the safe place near the sea where Dobby will forever lay in peace and felt a tear roll down my cheek at I stood by his grave in the darkest of night, paying my respect to this amazing elf who had saved all our lives— twice as far as I was concerned. I watched as we argued about the message and finally decided to go straight to the school hoping to find another Horcrux.

* * *

A/N : I'm going quickly over it. We all know it and I couldn't think of anything she could have done more. I sincerely hope it was satisfactory to you too. We're nearing the end now. Only two more chapters : one for the final battle and one for the epilogue.


	35. Chapter 35

Disclaimer : I own nothing. It all belongs to JK Rowling.

* * *

 **Chapter 35 : the Final Battle, 1998**

I alerted Severus we were coming and that he should prepare to flee, that he would be driven out. I couldn't follow us inside the castle, nor did I wish too. I knew what would happen — Draco and his cronies, the Fiendfyre, the death of Crabbe, the destruction of the diadem, the kiss with Ron. I had no wish to see it all again. It wasn't my life anymore. I had finally accepted it. I tried to prevent Fred's death. I would not be there for Ron after the war end. He would need his family — Harry too. I know they would rely upon the Weasley family to overcome my disappearance. I only partially succeeded. The shield I threw wasn't strong enough, or maybe I didn't cast quick enough or maybe I was too far or didn't aimed rightly but I could only reduce the damage as the wall collapsed on them. Fred wasn't moving when Percy caught up with him. He never regained his hearing. I decieded then to drink a little of the Felix then raced to the Shack. I had to catch up with Severus before he faced Voldemort. I run harder, feeling the muscles protest and hot fire in my legs, breathing hard but focusing only on my objective. I had Charmed my necklace but he hadn't answered. I almost keeled in relief when I finally spotted his outline.

"Severus," I panted. I touched his face with trembling fingers and he clasped my hand tightly.

"Shh, I need to concentrate," he informed me softly, his tone brooking no argument. I waited with bated breath. "What is it?" he asked in his brusque way.

"Can't tell you. But it will help. May I?" I requested as I lifted my wand to him. I hoped for the best and sent all the spells I had prepared, cascading them over him, trying to prevent his death with all my might and all my love. "Drink," I ordered and he sniffed before pulling the vial to his lips.

"Felix Felicis? You will have a lot to explain Hermione."

"Then don't be a bloody tragic hero and stay alive so that I can tell you. Deal?" He looked at me gravely and nodded. Not like he could hold such kind of promise. Neither of us could. Not in the middle of a full-range Battle.

"Hermione—" he began but I cut him short.

"You know I can't," I said regretfully. I looked at him and was overwhelmed by emotion. What if I couldn't save him? I lifted my hand to his cheek and found it slightly abrasive. A barely noticeable stubble that belied his intense concentration on the task at hand and desperate attempts to accomplish his mission and life-goal. I kissed him — Voldemort be damned if he Legilimensed Severus and witnessed it. I might lose him tonight, I surely wouldn't let him march to his death without a last kiss.

"I need to go," he stated calmly.

"I know." I stepped back and smiled wanly. He disappeared into the Shrieking Shack. I retreated to the bushes nearby, crouched low and covered myself with Harry's cloak, Disillusioned myself for good measure and waited. It wouldn't take more than half an hour but it would be a terribly tense and painful wait. In my mind, I followed all the events that had led us to this place, at this time. We had fled under the cloak, all three of us, speeding through Hogwarts, narrowly escaping fighters and spells. We had saved Draco a second time, ran until our lungs were raw and stopped in front of the Whomping Willow, trembling and panting. We had magicked a twig to fit inside the tiny hole to make it stop thrashing. We had crawled inside the tunnel, trying to make as little noise as possible, to be inconspicuous. Inside were the three most dangerous beings and those Harry hated the most: Voldemort, Severus Snape and Nagini. What we witnessed— it still makes me shudder. To think Severus had groveled at his feet for years, catering to his malevolent whims, doing Merlin-knows-what to convince him of his loyalty, playing sycophant and taking in stride the loathing and distrust that came with the Mark from anyone else. He must have known he was walking to his death. He had seen my memories. He must have understood. There was nothing either of us could do to prevent the pain. I replayed Voldemort's insinuations and veiled threats, his barely repressed fury and impatience. I remember still Severus' strangled cry of disbelief and helpless fight as Nagini sunk her teeth into the tender skin of his throat, ripping flesh, muscles and artery alike, leaving nothing but a gaping grotesque wound and outpouring blood. I remember Harry as he bit his hand so hard it bled. I remember transfiguring a vial to collect Severus' last gift, as his most treasured and most guarded memories gushed from him, the thick liquid a beautiful blue, almost turquoise. My brave Slytherin— it's almost my turn to get on stage. I remember as we all stood up and ran away, ran back to the castle to make sense of all this. My brave friends. You have your own battle to wage now. Harry— you have a destiny to fulfill and a Dark Lord to kill. I will try to be there when someone kills Nagini— or do it myself otherwise. But now, I have a bigger role to play. I have a life to save and about two hours, two and a half at most to do it. I Apparated as soon as we turned tail and crept back up the tunnel — there wasn't a second to spare. The last time, Harry had seen him die, had witnessed as the spark in his eyes was snuffed out and they dulled to unseeing dark orbs. I hoped to whatever higher beings that my meager spells had given me the few minutes I needed to save him. I heaved a sigh of relief.

"Hang on Severus, I'm here."

I forced down his throat a Draught of Living Death first — the bleeding had to stop and his life force was already almost completely gone. I couldn't take care of both simultaneously. The Felix had prevented Nagini from slashing the artery wide open. She had still grazed it as evidenced by the amount of blood still gushing. I coated the puncture wounds and waited to see if it worked — her fangs produced a poison that dissolved everything after all. But my paste withstood it and held up fast. I thanked the shaman, resolved to visit and pay tribute to him. He had just helped me save Severus. The most hazardous part over, I cleaned the wound and set about closing it. It was tremendous work and the hours long I had spent practicing Severus' healing spells came extremely handy. I wouldn't have had the stamina to keep going otherwise. I chanted and chanted, again and again, without pause, without conscious awareness of the world around or the time going, again and again, as I spread and massaged the pastes onto his injury, trying to salvage his throat, trying desperately to heal him. Eventually the skin grew back enough to be left alone. It was raw and the scar would always show but it would keep the blood in his body and I could concentrate on the rest of him. The draught gave me time to work on him but I would have to revive him soon and nothing guaranteed he would wake up. Sweat beaded on my forehead but I paid it no mind. I had more important to do. I gave him the antidote and waited. To my utter horror, nothing happened.

"Dammit Severus, wake up!" I sent an Enervate to no avail. "Fight!" I urged him, tears threatening to spill and cloud my vision as I threw another spell his way. His body jostled as his back arched. Nothing. I hadn't much options left. I used a spell to make audible his heartbeat and resorted to Muggle CPR. Coupled with another lengthy and exhausting healing spell of Severus' design, minutes trickled back as I exerted myself to bring life back to him until finally, finally, his heart began to beat again. The small, irregular, erratic pulse that suddenly echoed into the dilapidated room made my own heart flutter and soar. He would live.

I still had many potions to give him — anti-venom being the most imperative. I couldn't give them all at once but I had already planned way ahead the order and time to elapse between the doses. An overall diagnosis enabled me to locate and attend to lesser injuries. A gash here, a broken bone there, a few nasty bruises, a strain. I healed as much as I could and tended to the rest. At long last, he was stable and asleep and I could finally stop and take a break. I sat next to him and whispered sweet nothings to him. I had no idea where he went and who met him at the crossroads. I had no idea why he went back. I didn't care at that point. I was only immensely relieved and eternally grateful he was alive. All that mattered to me was that for now everyone was still alive. I rummaged around in my bottomless bag until I found my watch. So late already… I hadn't much time to spare. I looked at Severus and found him strangely relaxed. That would have to be good enough. I put a vial of pain-relief beside him in case he woke up earlier and penned a note to him then spelled a strong protective barrier around him. Nothing and no-one would be able to break it and disturb Severus. Well, maybe Voldemort, I shouldn't be too arrogant. But he wasn't supposed to come back here since he was calmly waiting for Harry to come meet him in the Forest.

I retraced my steps back and found myself on the eerily silent grounds of Hogwarts. After the effusion of battle and the frantic healing of Severus, I was shocked to find everything quiet. There was destruction everywhere, from corpses to upturned grass and destroyed stone lying haphazardly on the ground, motionless as if frozen in time, like an absurd Muggle painting. So still, so mute. Not of a hushed restful sleep but rather an oppressive absence of noise that sent chills down my spine. I had to hurry. I sprinted to the destroyed Room of Requirement — what had happened to the Sword? Had it been reduced to smoldering ashes like the diadem or has it been sent back to the Sorting Hat, safely hidden where Harry had found it so many years ago? I looked around, whispered to the castle but received no answer in any way or form. I scrambled down to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, tripping on my way there, trying not to break an ankle on the fallen remains of this once great castle, losing time when the stairs I had been aiming for turned out as no more than crumbled rubble several flights down. What a shame. Dredging up memories of a past long gone, a past that never happened, I mumbled and hissed until it resembled sufficiently the vague imitation of Parseltongue Ron had done decades ago— or maybe it was only two hours. I glided down, walked down the damp, suffocating space of the Chamber of Secrets and retrieved the Basilisk' fangs that we hadn't wrung out this time around. If the Sword didn't come out of the Hat like a conjured bunny in a Muggle illusionist's show, I would still be able to kill that blasted snake. My next stop was the Headmaster's office — I had to get Severus' memories back. He would want them. Memories shape us. He would need them. Getting in wasn't all that difficult — I stated my business, asked nicely and the Gargoyle revealed the winding staircase. After all the memories of mine I had painstakingly copied, doing it for someone else was easy. I bottled the original ones carefully, stashed them in my bottomless bag and looked for Dumbledore's portrait. It seemed to be vacated but I felt compelled to talk to it.

"Albus," I called out. I waited a few seconds before calling again. No-one came but I talked anyway. "He'll live, Albus. I swore I would never abandon him. He's alive, Albus. I hope that wherever you are, you can wish him a better life, the one he could never have. I hope you've found peace. Goodbye, headmaster."

I sprinted back, as fast as I could, just in time for the dramatic arrival of Voldemort. Even if Harry had died— I had had every hope he hadn't but what could I have done to prevent it?— I could end the war or at the very least, I knew how to. I sent a silent prayer to anyone who might listen for Neville for I had no wish to witness his murder a second time but still kept my eyes riveted on Harry's unmoving form. He seemed so small, so insignificant surrounded by the cluster of full-robed Death-Eater, so arrogant, so full of themselves, sure as they were that they had already won. Then his voice boomed— so much smugness, so much egotism, boasting over my best friend's death. I heard us cry out in disbelief and pain. I followed his snake's movement from the corner of my eye as it coiled and slithered around him. I watched as Neville's anger grew, as he fisted his hands and went white as a sheet with fury. I felt it before it happened— and then suddenly he leapt forward, intent evident but he was doomed to fail from the start. Too obvious. Too fiery. And yet. I watched with grim detachment as Voldemort Accioed the Sorting Hat and set it aflame on Neville's head, still under body-bind. Suddenly there were clamors and hooves— reinforcement had arrived and something clicked. I saw movement. A confirmation. Hope. Harry had moved, I was sure of it. A strong surge of love mixed with endless relief blossomed in my chest, choking me with emotion. However it happened— I would never know but Harry had survived the encounter in the forest. There were hope— for Neville, for Ron, for Luna, for the Weasley, for everyone. I sent the stronger spell I knew to negate the body-bind on my aflame friend and watched in wonderment as he purposefully, swiftly grabbed the Hat and retrieved the beautiful, unscathed Sword from its depths. I watched the shining blade slash through the air with a gracious arc, penetrate the scaly flesh of Nagini and swiftly cut its head off entirely. It would have been very poetic in its fluidity and grace if not for the gory sight of this monster's dead body. Good riddance. I was absolutely sure Severus would be delighted to view my memory and witness how the not-so-mighty had fallen. Then rang Hagrid's scared exclamation, asking where Harry had disappeared. I knew. I hadn't lifted my eyes of him.

The rest was a blur. It happened quickly, far too quickly but I tried to commit every single minute to mind for Severus. He would want to know— he even was entitled to it somehow. It was a shame he couldn't reveal his true allegiance himself but there really is no need to cry over spilled milk. I followed Harry, through corridors and hallways, pushing past countless people until finally we arrived in the ruined Great Hall. Such a mighty castle, what a shame really. The last Battle. We had never really talked about it during our field trip. It had bothered me for decades now. I know Harry had been worried too. And yet, as the time was finally upon him, I witnessed a strange peace on his features. His determination and the liberation of the Moment, knowing it would be the last confrontation, knowing he had died and come back, knowing somehow that Voldemort couldn't harm him anymore— I've never been so proud of my best friend. He wasn't a boy nor was he a man. He wasn't a soldier and yet, he wasn't offering peace either. He was justice for all those who had perished, backed by all the dead. He was more than himself because he was carried. And it showed. Oh the joy, when he claimed Severus as a spy! And when he finally dealt him the last blow. I didn't stay. Who would I have celebrated with? Another me was with Harry and Ron. How could I have helped, tend to the injured or bury the dead without giving the game away? I couldn't show myself. Moreover, Severus still needed medical attention urgently. And anyway, there was no one else I would have wanted more to be with to share these wonderful news.

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A/N : It is finally done. And they all lived happily ever after. Because I've always loved fairy tales. Yep. But there's still an epilogue. And a still unnamed companion piece which I should post along quickly. Most probably with "companion piece" as title by the way…


	36. Chapter 36

Disclaimer : I own nothing. It all belongs to JK Rowling.

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 **Chapter 36 : Epilogue**

"Potter! I need to warn him!" He suddenly shouted, trying to get up and ending up tangled in bed sheets, swearing profusely.

He had been going in and out of consciousness for three days already, delirious with fever and venom. I had witnessed him in various states of anguish, seen him cry in his disturbed sleep, heard him plead. I assumed from his reaction to physical contact whether he had been tormentor or victim. Ah, but he had hidden a lot from me, the little sneak. This time however was different. The quality of his voice, the urgency of his demand as well as the muffled swear words had been absent previously. I put a calming hand on his arm and began talking.

"It's okay Severus. Harry knows." He turned strangely vacant eyes to me before awareness lit them up again. Then the inquisition began. Where, how, why, when, who — he asked about almost everything and I talked for hours, getting up from time to time to release tension or sometimes for a no more mundane reason than to get a tea. I kept his memories for a later time, when he'll be fully healed and able to deal with them on his own because he certainly wouldn't want me as a witness. He was drained already, his skin pearly white, a slight bead of perspiration on his forehead. I retrieved my book and settled comfortably on the armchair I had brought by the bed while sleep overtook him. Planning what was coming next would wait still.

"How are you feeling about the trial?" I asked as he righted his robes once more. Harry — bless his kind soul— had finally decided that his hated teacher was due respect and took up a campaign of reinstatement. Ah, Harry and his yearning for justice. Having witnessed Severus' innermost secrets seemed to have opened a well of esteem and admiration in my friend. I discovered he had learned a few tricks from me because he had tirelessly worked towards finding us. When Severus' body had been found missing from the Shack, he had launched himself into his search. And while we both could have hidden ourselves so thoroughly he would have spent his whole life investigating in vain, I somehow managed to convince Severus it might be beneficial to him to meet Harry. A trial would most surely secure him a full pardon and a public revelation of his real role in the war. He deserved the Order of Merlin or at the very least, an acknowledgment of his deeds.

So there we stood, four months later and a few hours before his trial — championed by a Potter rather than Albus Dumbledore this time. And while he would be facing countless faces, I would wait under Polyjuice with the public, anxiously worrying about him, about the verdict and about the state he would come back to me. He would stand there and took in stride all the hate, the disbelief as he faced his former pupils tortured by the Carrows under his Headmastership of Hogwarts or the families of those he had let die as a spy. He would face his former colleagues who had driven him out of the castle, out for his blood and casting nasty hexes. He would have to answer to the testament of other Death-Eaters, claiming him as one of their own. And I knew he would accept an unfavourable verdict as due justice for his past crimes. There were days — more often than not — when he wished he had died. He might think I couldn't see through his facade but I knew better. And I grieved silently for the man I had come to love over the years. He would never be easy — he was embittered, oftentimes sullen and had very little patience. He was also loyal, brave and passionate.

If only he knew how to forgive himself.

"Severus, I need your help." He looked up from his book to give me his undivided attention. "In a few days, it's going to be the first year remembrance of the end of the war."

"What are you uncertain about?"

"I have to set events in motion. The time draws near." He steepled his fingers, never taking his gaze off mine.

"Go on."

"Time has to get round. I went back once, I must go back again for the circle to be complete. Yet the events and circumstances leading to my decisions are not the same. I cannot snap my fingers to take my other self into the past and hope for the best. There is too much at stake. And we're the only ones in the confidence."

"That is not quite true. Minerva McGonagall is aware of your tampering. I do not know yet what use that could be to us however. Haven't you planned for this?"

"Of course I have. But I have some misgivings."

"Scruples are for those who can afford them my dear. I had thought you, at least, had learnt that much."

I looked away. Words couldn't properly convey my conflicted feelings. I wasn't even able to name most of them. I stood up and looked out of the window. One would think that a peaceful, stress-less life would have mellowed us but I still felt as taunt as a string on a bow. And Severus, despite all his efforts and progress, wasn't that relaxed either. I reckon it would take us years but what a shame really. Hadn't we earned a few quiet, loving years together? Apart from society, isolated in a bubble free of responsibility, where we could read and brew and watch seasons blend into one another, content with the uneventful, comfortable life we led? It seemed we weren't meant to and that saddened me tremendously. I watched the light as it warmed the fields around the house, watched the small, inconspicuous shadows the tall blades of wheat cast on the ground.

"I had copied each and every memory I had of my year on the run and the months following the first and failed confrontation between Harry and Voldemort. I have planned to replace her memories with mine so that she would take the same steps as I. But I hadn't planned for how I will to do this or make it convincing. We certainly do not want Harry and Ron to go looking into the matter. It has to be definitive and without a shadow of a doubt. What would lead her to disappear? And how do I get the potion as right as the first time around? I'm not even sure how I did it..."

"Potions," he answered simply.

"Pardon me?"

"Potions," he repeated. "I'm quite sure your other self would be one to experiment in her own time. Accidents happen all the time. You must not make her disappear — it will only bring doubt to your friends. She must seemingly die. Draught of the living death would do nicely. You will need to approach her and gain her to trust you enough to drink an unknown potion. Polyjuice would be perfect — just get a hair of Potter or Weasley. I will brew what you need."

"I will need a hair from Minerva too. She is the one who sent me back. I'll pose for her this time around. Would you agree to use your Legilimency to take her memories away, implant mine instead and make them seem as true as possible? Would you be able to?"

"I'll do what's necessary."

"Severus, I —" I began but couldn't seem to find the right words. I must have looked lost for he got up and enfolded me in his arms.

"It's okay. The necessary thing is not always a right deed. But it must be done. You know the truth of this."

"I will sacrifice her life. For mine." He tightened his hold for a brief second then held me at arm's length.

"Tell me. If you confessed the truth to her, would she go willingly? Would she alter the events like you did?"

"I cannot say for sure. She might. Or knowing the circumstances might prove disastrous because she will try too hard and get the exact opposite reaction."

"Then you have your answer. She mustn't know. Send her back with your memories, your determination and grief. Send her back as you were, snarl, bite and all."

"She'll think Harry, Ron and Neville died."

"It is unavoidable."

"I know the pain. It's all-consuming. I do not wish it on anyone."

"It is necessary. You must know it is the only way." I nodded before looking away. Knowing it didn't absolved me or released me from guilt. "Now what about that Potion you brewed to Travel? This seems like a very attractive perspective."

Strangely, sending my younger self back in Time had been liberating. It was as if we had been freed of restraints we hadn't known to possess. Nothing held us back in England — no work, no friends, no family and no possessions. We decided to leave everything behind and travel abroad. I had been doing it as a curse-breaker and I was immensely glad to do it again. I showed him around the places I had fallen in love with, introduced him into the Wizarding communities I had known and we discovered the others together. We wandered aimlessly for years, shedding the cloak of responsibilities we both had worn for too long, unburdening our souls and thoroughly enjoying ourselves. It was cathartic and invigorating. Lines of worry faded away and yet I began to grow restless. It took me a while to figure out what was wrong and even longer to muster the courage to talk about it with Severus. It was a rainy day, when one only wants to curl up on the sofa under a warm blanket with a hot cocoa or a spiked coffee and a heavy tome.

"Something has been bothering you. What is it?" he asked in his brusque way, hiding his own trepidation behind abrupt words.

"We never talked about children." It seemed to me silence stretched for all eternity.

"Indeed," he finally offered and I heard his reluctance.

"I do want a family."

"I have deduced as much."

"Aren't you interested? Don't you want a child?"

"Poor soul! Why would you willingly subject an innocent to such a fate?"

"Severus!" I chastised. He blinked.

"I am not fit to be a father," he shrugged inelegantly. "And I have no patience whatsoever." He went back to his book.

"I disagree. And I still want a child."

"And what exactly do you think would befall a child of ours? He — or she— would be ostracized. I assume you'd want him to go to Hogwarts. And then what? A Snape? Back there? Where would he be Sorted? A Gryffindor like you? That would go well. Maybe a Slytherin? How would you like that? Best mate with Malfoy and Parkinson. Want to have them home? Or maybe just a nobody who will be pushed around for seven very long years. Neither of us had been popular. Don't delude yourself, there is no way a child of ours would get any social skills. Of course, we could name the child after you but if the poor thing has any luck, he'll get my looks and the game will be away before it even begins. Pray that the child looks like you and nobody ask questions about why the kid looks like the very dead Hermione Granger."

"We don't have to go back to England. Yes, I would like my child to know Hogwarts. However, there are many other magical schools throughout the world if you're so concerned. That apart, I can't see why our child would be unhappy or why it would be such a punishment to have us as parents. There is nothing a loving family can't overcome. And I just know you would love our child to bits. I'm not demanding of you to get me pregnant on the spot. I'm just asking that you consider it. Honestly and truthfully. I deserve a careful decision at least and not just the offhand answer you provided."

Willow was born on a stormy night, the sky ripped fiercely by lightning. We were in South America at the time, in a small Wizarding community and I gave birth in my home, assisted by the shaman and apothecary. She was small and fragile and she grew up as a brave, fearless little hurricane, avid to learn. Every adult looked over the various children and Willow blossomed during the years we spent there, refining her curiosity and open, trustful disposition. She showed early signs of magic and she was delighted to experiment the Magic coursing through her fingers, racing after the oldest when they would allow her into the confidence. When she neared her 10th birthday, we moved nearer to the closest school, Castelobruxo. Despite Severus' misgivings, Willow was beautiful. Her pale skin framed by wavy jet black hair gave her a somewhat vampire-like glow that seemed to attract boys — to Severus' dismay I might add. But our daughter never got full of herself. She tended to be a bit rough on those who hadn't been gifted with a mind as keen as hers and she could sometimes seems pretentious but she was never cruel and never judged a book on its cover. I had no doubt she would one day become one of the finest witches and show them all what a Snape could do, given the right circumstances. But this is a story for another time and one that I am not meant to relate as it is not mine.

My testament ends here as it is the truth of what had transpired through the second Wizarding War of Britain. This is how everything really happened and why Hermione Granger died. This is the story of a man reborn and of a woman who died to save all others, those they had loved. And in the turmoil of it all, I can assure you, we both found peace and love for ourselves. Willow is and will always be our greatest treasure, our greatest reward and our greatest pride.

To those who have found this document, I, Hermione née Granger, renamed Barnett, now named Snape, attest I chose to Travel back in Time to help the downfall of Tom Marvolo Riddle who used to call himself Voldemort and in so doing, met the man I would spend the rest of my life with. And I have no regrets whatsoever apart from the slight pang of sadness concerning those I had loved most as a teenager and never forgotten — Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.

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A/N : I feel immensely happy to have been able to finish this story. It was my very first one. I rewrote it completely and it retains almost nothing from its early form yet it holds a special place in my heart compared to all the other stories I posted. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. For those of you who began when I first posted, thank you for your patience (I am not a regular updater) and your support. You may not have reviewed, but I know you read. It means much. For those of you who took the time to review, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I wish you a happy time reading, whether on the site or a real book. Cheers !


	37. Update

Hi there !

Just a small note to let you know I've posted **Companion**. It takes place between chapter 35 and 36 and revolves solely on Severus.

Cheers !


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